


Extraordinary

by svana_vrika



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Universe, Clothed Sex, Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, During Canon, Exploration, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Headcanon, Introspection, Kink Discovery, Learning Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Nanase Haruka & Tachibana Makoto & Tokyo, Non-Penetrative Sex, POV Nanase Haruka, Praise Kink, Protective Nanase Haruka, Self Confidence Issues, Sexuality, Shower Sex, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Work In Progress, canon angst, makoharu - Freeform, mutual possessiveness, realized feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 116,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: Ordinary.Most wish for something beyond it, but it’s all Haruka has wanted since his grandmother had first shared her proverb. Yet, the closer he gets to it, the more things change, and he wonders if he’ll ever reach it. A fleshing out of Haruka’s season three story and of his developing relationship with Makoto, woven between season three canon points.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto, Shigino Kisumi/Shiina Asahi
Comments: 215
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work is unbetaed. 
> 
> Spoiler warning for everything produced through Dive to the Future, just in case. lol.

Haruka is half up the ladder to his loft when a soft, five-tone melody breaks the silence. The sound isn’t jarring but, at the same time, it is, because it doesn’t belong to _him._ It’s not at all like the alert of his washing machine back in Iwatobi and, while this one is still pretty, (never mind a pretty foolish thing get irritated over!), Haruka finds it annoying. It’s yet another reminder of how vastly different _everything_ is now that he’s living in Tokyo.

Haruka doesn’t regret his decision to accept the offer from Hidaka. And he knows that he will, eventually, make the adjustment; that he’ll get used to the miniscule kitchen, to the loft, to having not even a quarter of the space to which he’s accustomed. That things like the sounds of the traffic, the lights at night, and the chirpy tune of the washing machine will become as familiar to him as everything had been in Iwatobi. But Haruka is also a creature of order and routine and, right now, life is a disarray of unfamiliarity and uncertainty. And, in this moment, he resents it every bit as much as he is grateful for being there.

But pouting isn’t going to get the laundry hung.

Huffing quietly, Haruka backs down the ladder and goes to take care of his shirts. His nose wrinkles just slightly as he opens up the slider to hang them out; the scents of exhaust and cooking and masses of people isn’t bad at all around his complex compared to some of the other parts of the city—what few he’s been to—but it isn’t the clean, sea-scented air of Iwatobi by any stretch. There’s nothing to be done about that, however, so out the shirts go and, after putting the empty basket back, Haruka heads up the ladder. _Again._

Haruka has lost track of how many times he’s been up and down from the loft in the two days that have passed since the moving truck had arrived. But it’s near done now, and maybe, he thinks, that will ease some of his aggravation. He’s always liked things kept in their place, so he has no doubt that the stacks of boxes, as clearly and neatly labeled as they’d been, has added to his dour mood. There are only two left now, though. _One_ , Haruka silently corrects as he settles onto the floor beside them. The nearest is marked _winter bedding_ , so it can just be shifted to the rear of the space with the others he won’t need until then, one holding his cold weather outerwear and the other two his heavier clothing.

After nudging that box into place, Haruka comes back to the last one.

_Ah, that’s right; the unlabeled one._

He’d noted it when he’d been sorting his delivery but hadn’t thought about it since. Now, however, he’s curious. Haruka knows that he’d labeled every box that he’d set out for the movers. He’d not had to bring everything; his parents were, thankfully, keeping the house. They’ll be in Iwatobi even less often now that Haruka is in university, but they, like he, plan on coming back for good one day. That said, even the things that he’d left at home had been carefully packed away and labeled, so he has no clue how this lone, unnamed box had even come into being, let alone included with his things for Tokyo.

And then he opens it.

Haruka draws a soft intake of breath as he looks at the contents on top, and then his cheeks heat with the warmth that flows through him. “Idiot,” he mutters with a shake of his head, though he can’t help the affectionate smile that accompanies it. Settling more comfortably beside the box, he pulls out the first item he touches: a small jar with sand and shells from the cove that Makoto’s parents had taken him and Makoto to during their summer of Kindergarten. It’s one of Haruka’s most pleasant memories, him and Makoto swimming in the crystal waters side by side, pointing out the sea creatures and floating lazily beneath the sun. Makoto’s smile, his laugh, had been bright enough to rival it. They still do, Haruka thinks as he sets the jar aside, and he’s glad for it; glad that, with everything that Makoto has been through since, his best friend still shines so brightly, even if he’s never again loved the ocean like he had then.

Other mementos follow; movie and amusement park tickets, little toys that they’d gotten from convenience store coin machines, drawings, birthday cards, photos. That initial warmth inside Haruka grows with each one, not all of it from the keepsakes themselves. Makoto had planned this; Haruka knows it. He knows because he distinctly remembers having gone through these things not too long before while he and Makoto had been packing up the last of his room; remembers marking the box with a very discreet _M_ while Makoto had gone downstairs to grab some waters.

“Idiot,” he mutters again as he pulls out a slim stack of pamphlets and programs, though it’s more directed toward himself this time. Of course Makoto had been aware of what Haruka had been packing away in that box, at least in a general sense. Makoto has been able to read him for longer than Haruka can recount. He has no doubt that Makoto had sensed his bit of melancholy and had transferred the items to this unmarked box, knowing that Haruka would be curious when he’d found it; hoping—as he did—that, maybe, the discovery would ease any loneliness Haruka might feel at the thought of them being separated.

Haruka’s fingers lightly rest on the brochure at the top of his little stack. He isn’t sure if it’s worked or not. He’s touched, and warmed, and it’s just the sort of thing that Makoto would do, planning ahead to try and see to Haruka like that. But Haruka’s heart aches with it all, sweetly from the memories and from Makoto’s kindness, yes, but there’s an empty sort of ache there, too, and something else that Haruka can’t quite put his finger on, so he attributes it to missing his friend. Which is ridiculous, he thinks with a quiet huff. As he’d told Makoto their first night in, _just over forty-eight hours ago,_ they were in the same city, just minutes away by train. They’ll see each other often. It’ll be fine.

Ignoring the part of his brain that reminds him that the only time since elementary school that he’s ever been this far apart from Makoto for longer had been when he’d _left the country_ after their fight on Obon, Haruka turns his focus to the items in his lap. His lips curve up slightly again when he sees the program from last year’s Nationals competition. It’s another important memory; partly because they’d done so well, yes, but also because of how his life had finally, _finally_ clicked back into place. He’d found his dream. Had shared it with his friends. Had learned of Makoto’s. Had reconciled with him. And, for Haruka, the last had been every bit as important to him as the first.

As Haruka sets the brochure aside, something slips out from between its pages. Brow furrowing, Haruka pulls it out fully, and then his body flushes hot at the sight of the scratched-out attempts scrawled on the complementary notepaper from that stupid hotel in Australia. Shoved into his bag in his haste to keep it from Rin when Rin had woken, and then forgotten, it must have worked its way into the program’s pages between the competition and home.

_~~I’m sorry~~ _

_~~Makoto, I~~ _

_~~I didn’t mean it~~ _

_~~Please don’t hate~~ _

_~~I was stupid. Please forgive~~ _

_~~Makoto, I don’t want~~ _

_~~Makoto~~ _

Haruka supposes he could lie to himself and say that he’d decided it wouldn’t be good form to try and mend things over text, but he’s always _tried_ to be as honest with himself as he is with everyone else. It’d had nothing to do with doing it right, and everything to do with not having the words. Not because his own had been inadequate—though, as always, they had been—but because Haruka had believed, at the time, that there just weren’t words out there to heal the hurt that had been done.

Yet, when he’d returned to Japan, Makoto had managed to do so with just one.

Of course, that isn’t _exactly_ true. Things hadn’t magically snapped back to the seamlessness to which they’d become accustomed before Haruka had fallen apart their senior year. Even after proper apologies and conversation, it had taken a bit. But they’d learned from it, each promising the other and themselves—Haruka knows because he’d vowed to _himself_ and he knows that Makoto had been as devastated by their fight as he’d been—that they’d work harder at their shortcomings; that Haruka would try and not withdraw if things got hard for him again, and that Makoto wouldn’t hold himself back out of fear of upsetting Haruka further and let him.

Haruka’s brow furrows slightly as he starts to put the keepsakes back. That hadn’t been the first time they’d spiraled down that path together, but it had certainly been the worst, and Haruka hopes that it had been the last. His lips press slightly as he closes the mementos back up. _No_. _It will be,_ he promises himself again, and he shifts the box back with the rest and then sighs, glad to be done. He moves over to the ladder, mentally debating if he wants to bathe first or to eat, and then he winces and softly curses when something hard digs into his knee. He pulls his leg back and then a slight smile curves his lips. It’s an old cellphone charm. His first. Makoto had picked it out for him, a pale blue dolphin with a deep blue crystalline bead hanging from it, when they’d gotten their first cell phones. Seventh grade, he recalls, before they’d traveled out of Iwatobi their first time for swim club. The charm must have dropped when he’d been pulling out the other keepsakes, but a soft pinch in his stomach tells him that it’s _definitely_ time to eat, and he foregoes crawling back over to the box and pockets the charm instead as he goes down the ladder.

In the end, Haruka compromises with himself. The flat had been immaculate when he’d moved in, but he still doesn’t feel right about cooking and eating after going through boxes and crawling around on the floor, so he showers before taking out the mackerel. He’s just flipped it over when his phone sounds, and it takes a couple of buzzes for him to remember that he’s in Tokyo and that he really shouldn’t just ignore it as had been his wont for so long. A bit of that earlier disgruntlement returns and causes him to be shorter than he should be when he answers, even knowing already who it is. “What is it?”

“Haru, can you talk for a minute?” Makoto asks, taking the curtness in stride, as always, making sure things are fine with Haruka first, _as always,_ even though Haruka can tell by Makoto’s tone that he’s anxious about something. It comes out soon enough, and Haruka has to smile just a bit even as he lightly rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. Their things have been getting mixed up for years, from pens, to homework, to receipts. It should have been a given that, if Makoto had the slip for Haruka’s suit, Haruka would have Makoto’s. Then again, Haruka knows that this is likely just one of myriad items working to rile Makoto’s anxiety. Everything is new for Makoto, too, and they don’t even have the assurance of starting their new schools together this time. Haruka can count on at least two familiar faces, even if one is Kisumi and he only ends up seeing Mikoshiba at practice. Makoto doesn’t even have that.

“I have it,” Haruka assures with less edge to his voice as he pulls the slip from his wallet. Makoto’s relief is palpable, despite the distance between them, so much so that Haruka knows exactly what Makoto’s face looks like in that moment, and Haruka finds himself glad for the mix up and the opportunity it’s presented. “We should probably go together today to pick them up then.”

Makoto agrees with an alacrity that lets Haruka know he’s glad for the chance to see him as well. It’s warming, even as Haruka idly wonders if they’ll ever get used to the separation. The thought leaves him with a weird feeling so he’s glad when Makoto keeps talking, and he has to smile a bit when he learns why Makoto wants to delay meeting up until six. He’d be willing to bet that Makoto hasn’t even finished unpacking, he’s that determined to find the odd little sea creatures for his siblings’ birthday. Once their classes start, he won’t have the chance to scour the shops like he has been. Haruka’s smile broadens slightly as they wrap up their conversation. Even at something like this, Makoto hates to lose. _Especially with something like this,_ Haruka amends as he heads back to the kitchen and his mackerel. Makoto’s tenaciousness is as unending as his loyalty when it comes to his family and friends. Haruka knows that better than anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

Finding Iwatobi-chan’s beak in the middle of Shibuya is the last thing Haruka had anticipated would happen—well… _ever_ , never mind when he’d decided to try his hand at locating the elusive sea slug mascots that Makoto wants for Ran and Ren. It’s by far the strangest thing that’s occurred since his move; even stranger than having ran into Mikoshiba just after Mikoshiba had seen _Makoto_ , and Haruka figures that has to be pretty strange indeed, given the sheer size of Tokyo. Actually, the whole situation is one bizarre coincidence after another, since Haruka has little doubt that someone at the local mascot event that Mikoshiba had seen Makoto going into is likely panicking over the missing beak that _he_ has. Haruka just hopes that he makes it in time to keep Iwatobi-chan from being disqualified. That would be a tragedy, because there is no better mascot in Haruka’s eyes. And Haruka feels that he’s a fairly good judge given the number of mascots he’s fallen for over the years.

Beyond that, Haruka is more than a little curious as to what Makoto is doing at the event. He’d been so eager to look for the gift once they’d gotten to Tokyo, and then so worried that he wouldn’t find it in time. Maybe he’s already found it, Haruka thinks, and he’d come upon the event by happenstance. _That has to be it,_ he decides, and if the thought of watching the event live, _with Makoto_ , puts a bit of an extra speed to his step, well.

As for the little slugs in Haruka’s pocket, if Makoto _has_ ended up finding them as well, Haruka’s set will look cute on his desk, flanking his Iwatobi-chan.

Mikoshiba’s directions lead Haruka directly to the studio. There’s no sign of an audience when Haruka goes inside, nor does he catch sight of Makoto; both are disappointing to him, but it doesn’t appear that the match has started, so at least he’s made it on time. “Iwatobi-chan!” he calls out as he hurries toward the stage, not really knowing _who_ else to ask for, and then he spies the mascot and the Iwatobi delegates. They thank him profusely as he hands off the beak, save for Iwatobi-chan himself. _He_ is, regrettably, standoffish, though Haruka’s fleeting disappointment is forgotten with the surprisingly familiar squeak the mascot makes when the leader of the group calls out to him.

_It can’t be,_ Haruka thinks in a mixture of disbelief and awe, but the continued noises and the way Iwatobi-chan persists in evading the chairman’s grasp clears any doubt before the delegate even calls Makoto’s name. Suddenly, finding the beak no longer tops the list of _Nanase Haruka’s Odd Afternoon in Tokyo._ But there’s no time for incredulity, or for his curiosity or amusement— _or_ for Makoto to keep dodging, though Haruka does understand why. He has no doubt that Makoto is red from his neck to the tips of his ears for having been caught in such a bizarre situation. But Iwatobi-chan’s reputation is on the line.

Expression sobering, Haruka calls out for Makoto in a tone that he knows will cut through both the noise of the delegate’s pleas and his best friend’s embarrassment. It works, and the crew practically pounces on Makoto when he freezes; as the two junior members finish with the beak, the chairman expresses his gratitude by gearing Haruka up as part of the Iwatobi contingency. Haruka doesn’t blink an eye; it’s for Iwatobi, after all, and he’s incredibly honored by it. He does worry for Makoto, however—he still refuses to even _look_ in his direction—but Makoto frantically puts Haruka off when Haruka calls his name again. With a silent sigh, Haruka lets him be. They can talk later. Makoto has the competition to focus on and, given his best friend’s gentle nature, that will likely be a struggle in its own right.

Haruka’s suspicions are proven correct just seconds into the match. Rather than using the strength and speed that Haruka knows Makoto possesses, Makoto dodges the other mascot, which allows him to grab hold of Makoto’s belt. Instead of forcing himself from his opponent’s hold, Makoto tries to get his hands on their belt in turn, and he’s quickly pushed to the edge of the ring. Haruka’s lips press. He can’t see Makoto’s face, but he has no doubt what’s going on in his head; how Makoto’s innate desire to win is battling with his equally as ingrained distaste for harming others. “Makoto,” he mutters, desperately thinking of how he can help, and then, as Makoto’s back arches so familiarly with his effort to keep on the right side of the line, it comes to him. “Makoto! Backstroke!” Haruka calls out, hoping that it will bring Makoto’s focus to the right point: that he’ll be using his strength for team Iwatobi, just as he had for swim club, and not to deliberately injure the other guy.

It’s as if a switch in Makoto’s head flips, and Haruka can’t help but smile as, using the same strong power and recovery movements and steady rhythm that he does in the water, Makoto quickly breaks free from his opponent’s hold and then forces him backward. In a matter of seconds, the match is over, the victory going to Iwatobi.

“Are you jealous?”

The question comes to Haruka underneath the rise in chattering and he realizes just how intently he’d been watching as Makoto helps his opponent up. “Not really,” he tamps down his embarrassment to reply, though maybe he is a _little_ ; it’s Iwatobi-chan, after all. He hangs back as the delegates hurry to gush over Makoto when Makoto steps down from the ring, and Haruka has to smile a bit when he sees the color in Makoto’s cheeks once the mascot’s head is removed. He knows that not all of it is leftover exertion.

Makoto glances around, presumably looking for Haruka; when they catch eyes, Haruka tips his head slightly toward the door and, after taking off his jacket and cap, he places them on the table next to Makoto’s backpack and then heads out. It isn’t too long before Makoto joins him and, as they walk down the hall and toward the exit, Haruka glances sidelong at his friend. “You did good, today, Makoto.” His praise is honest, but offered cautiously, lest he push Makoto back into that acute embarrassment.

“Mm. Thanks to Haru.”

Makoto smiles a bit when he says it, but his tone and gesture are off, and Haruka’s curiosity over that takes precedence over demurring from the credit Makoto had given him. “Makoto?”

A light color rises high in Makoto’s cheeks and he shakes his head, but Haruka doesn’t relent. He wants to understand, so he continues to stare. He knows that he’s not really being fair, but they’re like that with each other a lot, really. Which is why he knows that Makoto will give in, just as Makoto knows what he can draw from Haruka from a certain smile or call of his name.

“Haru was the one person I didn’t want to see me like that,” Makoto eventually murmurs embarrassedly, but that only confuses Haruka further. It’s _just him_.

“Why? Makoto, I’ve seen you throw up on yourself. You’ve thrown up on _me._ And there was that time before grade one—"

“Yes, Haru, I remember!” Makoto frantically cuts him off, “But this—” Makoto shakes his head with a wan smile as they reach the exit door. “I know, I’m being silly, ne?” is what he says, however, but Haruka knows that’s not what Makoto is thinking. He’s just interpreting Haruka’s look instead.

Haruka quietly sighs as Makoto pushes the door open, but before anything else can be said, Makoto’s phone rings. Haruka hears Nagisa’s excited shouting over the speaker and he resigns himself to letting his earlier curiosity go. He can see Makoto’s embarrassment mounting the longer the call goes on, plus, when Makoto deflects like he had, Haruka knows it means that Makoto _really_ doesn’t want to talk, that it’ll take more than a pointed look to drag _whatever_ out of him. And he really doesn’t want to clutter the evening with even more awkwardness. With all the newness and changes, never mind with everything else that’s coming at them over the next few days, Haruka just wants the easiness and comfort of being with his best friend. Besides, Haruka figures that it will come out eventually. And if it doesn’t, well, Haruka will have no issue in revisiting it at some point. Because it’s Makoto, and Haruka won’t forget. 


	3. Chapter 3

Haruka tugs impatiently at his collar and then quietly sighs when he has to readjust his tie because of it. Truthfully, it’s the only thing giving him fits; the tailor did well with keeping his suit loose enough without making it—and him—look sloppy. But he still hates it, as he has every other jacket-and-tie combination he’s worn since middle school, and he finds the expense foolish. A whole new suit for the handful of hours the entrance ceremony is supposed to take.

“Oh my! It looks really good on you!”

“Is that so?”

Haruka smirks a bit at the overheard exchange. Makoto is embarrassed by the woman’s praise; he can hear it in Makoto’s tone. Curious, he opens his curtain, but before he can even glance in Makoto’s direction, the store clerk shifts her attention to him, and all of Haruka’s discomfort rushes back to him.

“Haru!”

Makoto’s call of his name cuts through his embarrassment. It calms him some, as well as assures him that there’s some sincerity in the saleswoman’s gushing. He glances up as his friend comes over to him. Makoto looks good, too; tall, like his father, but broader, the cut of the clothing emphasizing his build, and suddenly Haruka feels strange, seeing Makoto like that, so handsome and grown. His hand lightly curls as he forces himself to not pick at his collar again.

“It kinda feels like we’re adults, ne?” 

Makoto’s eyes close as he tilts his head to the side and smiles and, like that, Haruka can breathe again, the gesture telling him that the boy he’d grown up with is still extremely present in the man that stands in front of him. Haruka is glad for that. There’s been change enough for a while, thank you very much. And, while he knows that being in Tokyo will, inevitably, reshape them both, he doesn’t have to like the thought of it. Especially not when it comes to Makoto.

“Yeah,” he softly agrees, lips curving into a slight smile, which makes Makoto’s broaden when Makoto opens his eyes and sees it.

And then Makoto’s stomach suddenly growls, and the moment is broken. Haruka blinks in surprise and then lightly smirks.

“Mean, Haru,” Makoto lightly whines, easily reading Haruka’s amusement, “It’s not my fault I got dragged into that match before I could eat!”

“You should have eaten before you left,” Haruka points out plainly, to which Makoto responds with a laugh and a rub to the back of his neck. Haruka’s head tips just slightly for a second or two, and then his eyes widen. He’d been right earlier; no doubt about it. “Makoto, you still haven—”

“I’m getting there, Haru-chan, I promise!” Makoto blurts out hurriedly about his unpacking. “I just haven’t found the kitchen stuff, yet. I mean, it took so long at the bookstore yesterday, and the day before it was hard enough finding what I _needed,_ there were that many boxes, and I really wanted to find the presents for Ran and Ren, you know?”

Haruka closes eyes and gives a slight shake of head. “Go change, Makoto,” he instructs on a sigh. “We’ll find a ramen stand or something for tonight and then I’ll come and help you finish unpacking.”

“Haru,” Makoto begins to protest, but Haruka silences him with a look. Makoto’s shoulders slump slightly after a second or two and he acquiesces with a quiet, “Mm. Thank you, Haru,” he says in similar tone before turning and stepping back into his fitting room.

Haruka catches just a glimpse of _something_ in Makoto’s expression before he turns; something that Haruka isn’t accustomed to seeing there. Haruka’s brow dips in thought as he steps behind his own curtain. Makoto isn’t mad or hurt; he’s well aware of how those emotions appear in Makoto’s face and eyes, and it bothers him that he can’t place whatever it was. It’s gone by the time they’ve finished, though, and Makoto is fine, so Haruka lets it go, but that’s troublesome in its own right. He feels as if he’s been doing far too much of that today where his best friend is concerned.

The train ride back to Makoto’s neighborhood proves to be enough of a pain with their suit bags that, by the time they get off, they’re both in agreement that delivery sounds better than trying to stop anywhere. “Things should be better by the time you have to go,” Makoto speculates of the crowding as he lets them into his apartment. Haruka goes to reply but stops short as soon as he steps foot into the tiny genkan.

_Getting there_ turns out to have been an overstatement.

To Makoto’s credit, what he _has_ unpacked has been neatly hung up or put away. But there are boxes _everywhere_ , some open, some not, and Haru has to wonder how someone as big as Makoto has managed around his small apartment without tripping or breaking something.

“Getting there, huh?” Haruka murmurs.

“Somewhat?” Makoto sheepishly replies.

Haruka softly snorts in amusement, then hands Makoto his suit bag so that he can take off his shoes. “Here; give me those,” he says of their purchases once he straightens. “You order dinner. I’ll get these hung up and get started.”

"Mm. Thank you, Haru,” Makoto replies with his smile and none of that earlier oddness that Haruka had noted before. It still bothers him, but again, he opts not to press it. There’s a lot of work to do and it’ll go better without that extra strain, he thinks. Besides, maybe it _had_ just been embarrassment for the state Makoto had left his apartment in, and Haruka’s just perceiving it differently. His lips briefly press. That said, he vows that he will make himself speak up if that weirdness crops up again.

Decision made, Haruka starts to work on the cluster of chaos closest to the kitchen. He ends up finding the boxes labeled for that room under a few partially unpacked boxes of bedding and clothing. Haruka huffs a soft laugh to himself. He isn’t surprised that, to Makoto, his clothes and bed had been the more pressing. Not that there’s a _lot_ to unpack for the kitchen. He and Makoto’s mom had kept it simple when they’d put together the boxes for Makoto; just the everyday basics. Neither of them harbors any delusion that Makoto will ever need more than that; they’d just wanted to make certain he was equipped enough that he isn’t living _solely_ off convenience store bentos and cup ramen. Not that Haruka would have let that happen, but there will be more days he isn’t able to cook for them both than there will be he can.

“Did the toaster do something wrong, Haru-chan?” Haruka’s head jerks up and then his cheeks heat when Makoto stifles his laugh behind a hand. “Sorry, sorry,” he soothes when Haruka turns his head away. “It’s just, you were glaring at it so!”

“Did you get dinner ordered?” he unnecessarily asks in lieu of a proper answer, because he doesn’t really even have one for _himself_.

“Mm. Pizza. Our usual.” Haruka looks up again, and Makoto softly grins, reading Haruka’s surprise. “It took a couple calls, but I found one that delivers _and_ does mackerel and pineapple,” he confirms, obviously pleased with himself, and Haruka smiles a bit.

“Thanks.”

“Mm-mm.” Makoto shakes his head. “Thank _you_ , Haru, for helping me. _Again_ ,” he tacks on a bit wryly.

Haruka’s head jerks up. There it is again, only this time he recognizes it; the self-depreciation that’s crept into Makoto’s expression and tone when he thanks him. “Makoto.” He waits, letting the silence eventually force Makoto’s eyes back up from the box he’d busied himself with. “It’s fine,” he says once Makoto’s looking at him, Haruka making the conscious effort to soften the edges to his tone so that Makoto doesn’t take the brunt of his irritation. It certainly isn’t directed at him. It isn’t his fault that it had taken Haruka so long to place what it was. “This, it’s new for both us. And you’ve never been on your own. I’m sure that makes it even harder. So it’s okay to let me help you when I can.”

Those last three words are troublesome for him, but here, in Tokyo, it’s all he _can_ give.

Makoto holds his gaze and Haruka doesn’t turn away, despite the overwhelming urge to. “Haru’s been struggling, too,” Makoto says quietly after a moment. He doesn’t elaborate—their ability to read each other doesn’t go to _that_ level of detail—but Haruka doesn’t bother denying it. Not that he could. Not that he wants to. It’s still hard for him, but he holds the promise they’d made each other close in his heart.

“Ah. I got mad at the washing machine because it didn’t sound like my own,” he admits a couple of beats later once he’s busied himself again, because he doesn’t know how to put what he’s truly feeling into words. But, because it’s Makoto, it’s enough.

“Haru!” Makoto declares with a delighted laugh, but it quickly fades, and Haruka’s glad his face is buried in the cupboard because he can _feel_ how Makoto is looking at him, and the gentleness brings more heat to his cheeks than the laugh did. “Change has always been hard for Haru,” he says softly, and then, “I’m glad we’re facing what we can of them together.”

“Me too. Finding Makoto’s box helped,” he adds after another bit of a pause, this time with a sidelong glance at his friend.

Makoto’s face _lights up_. “Yeah? Ahh, I’m so glad! I have things to remind me of Haru, too,” he shares, almost shyly, a moment later. It’s cute, Haruka thinks, but before he can examine _that,_ Makoto goes on in a rush, “I mean, I know what we’ve talked about before, that we’re not as far apart as we _could_ be, but even being as close as we are, it’s still further than we have been, you know?”

Haruka blinks.

“I mean—” Makoto begins again, but Haruka holds up his hand, the corner of his lips twitching. “Ah, Haru, don’t laugh!”

And Haruka can’t help it; the chuckle slips past.

“Haru!”

“It’s fine. I know what you mean. Now get to work or we’ll be at it all night.”

“Yes, yes,” Makoto grouses, but there’s amusement beneath, and Haruka’s lips curve further as he busies himself with another box. Several seconds go by, enough to where Haruka thinks it’s, thankfully, dropped, and then, “It’s just; that’s the change I don’t like the most. Being apart from Haru.”

Haruka’s head jerks up, and he spies a reddening cheek as Makoto turns away with a box. Haruka knows that. Of _course_ he does. Makoto had _just said_ they’d talked about it before. But it’s never been put so plainly, with so much laid out in those words, and Haruka’s heart beats oddly because of it. “Makoto,” he quietly calls after trying, and failing, to calm it. “Me too.”


	4. Chapter 4

Haruka closes his eyes as he floats aimlessly in the water. By the time he and Makoto had eaten and had finished with the unpacking the night before last, the trains had stopped running, and it had been all they’d been able to do to drag the futon out for Makoto—who, Haruka has come to accept, will always argue until Haruka takes the bed, regardless as to where they’re at—to flop onto. Haruka had been glad for the exhaustion. Nothing more had been said between them that night. Honestly, from a few minutes after that one exchange, it could have been any other night they’ve spent together. But he’d been grateful that his brain had been too tired to revisit anything from earlier, too.

Makoto had still been sleeping when Haruka had woken up the following morning. Haruka had been glad for that, too. Makoto has always required a bit more sleep than Haruka, but Haruka had also wanted a bit of space, because his mind had wasted no time in bombarding him in those quiet, early hours as he’d slipped out and had made his way back to the community pool to run through the drills his coach had emailed. After he’d finished, he’d just floated and had let the thoughts come, hoping that the water would help him sort them out. But all he’d come to in what time he’d had before the center’s first morning class was that _something_ was different, with Makoto, with him. And it was making _them_ different.

It’s the _why_ that continues to elude him. Haruka knows that he could easily write it off as their attempts to adjust to the physical distance that’s now between them, but he’s had to adjust to that sort of loss before, and this is just _different_. It’s deeper, the ache; the emptiness feels stronger than any separation he’s experienced before that hasn’t involved someone dying. Which means the difference is there because it’s Makoto, and what does _that_ really mean?

When Haruka had finally pulled his phone out over breakfast, he’d found a missed text from his friend. _You should have woken me,_ it had said, _I wanted to swim with Haru!_ Haruka’s lips curve up slightly despite himself, just as they had when he’d found the message the morning before. Makoto’s petulance is easily read in the words—it’s always stronger when he first wakes up or when he’s really tired—and Haruka can about see the color that had risen in Makoto’s cheeks when Haruka had sent back a tease about Makoto and early mornings.

Haruka sobers then; huffs softly and flips out of his float to push himself under water when he feels his own cheeks warm. _If it’s time with Haru, it’s worth it,_ Makoto had responded, instead of his usual declaration to be nice or that Haruka is mean, and it’s annoying. Haruka knows that Makoto is feeling the distance and the newness of everything just as much as he is; it’s not like Haruka had needed any sort of affirmation. They’ve never required a lot of words between them anyway, so he can’t figure out why Makoto had felt them necessary, _especially_ after their exchange the night before. And Haruka certainly doesn’t understand why he feels odd like he does when he recalls them. _It’s just Makoto._

Makoto, who’s suddenly acting weird for needing Haruka’s help. Even though they’ve _always_ helped each other, even as little boys.

But Makoto’s not the only one acting strange. _Handsome. Cute._ They’re words that, while fit his best friend well, Haruka has never consciously tied to him. So why all of a sudden now? And the things he’s been feeling; the random bursts of warmth and flips through his gut. Haruka huffs again, sending small bubbles through the water ahead of him as he surfaces. He knows his issues with change better than anyone; also knows that he can’t move toward his dream _without_ things changing. But, again, he finds himself resenting it, wanting things to be how they’ve always been, wanting the normal, ordinary pace and pattern of life in Iwatobi with Makoto just a handful of steps away, when he didn’t have to worry so much about distance, or words, or how he was reacting to either.

Haruka thinks about his grandmother’s saying suddenly as he swims toward the further edge; considers, for the first time, that her math might have been a bit off. He’ll be nineteen before too long, and not even done college at twenty, never mind that he’ll have just barely set foot on his path to the global stage by then. _Prodigy at ten, genus at fifteen,_ Haruka mentally recites as he breaks the surface, but he can’t even hazard a guess as to when _ordinary_ , for him, might be, and he casts his gaze back to the water, the longing for it hits him so strongly. _At twenty, I’ll be…_

Something slips into Haruka’s peripheral vision, distracting him. He glances up, eyes going slightly wide when he sees what it is. “Makoto,” he breathes as he shifts his gaze from Makoto’s hand to his best friend’s face; for a brief moment, the answer he’d been reaching for a moment ago seems to hover at the edge of Haruka’s mind, but then it’s gone.

“Good morning, Haru-chan.”

This, the routine of Makoto’s smile and hand, of the annoyingly persistent nickname; it’s exactly what Haruka had just been longing for. But now, all he can feel is frustrated, like something important has slipped his grasp. So, when he takes Makoto’s hand, he resists and actually pulls back himself, and can’t help but feel a bit of childish vindication when Makoto splashes into the water.

“Mean, Haru!” Makoto petulantly declares when he surfaces, but Haruka just shrugs and turns to take position in the lane.

“You came to swim, didn’t you?” he calls before he pushes off from the bottom, vaguely aware of Makoto grumbling behind him, but then he feels Makoto move through the water, catching up with his powerful strokes and, as Makoto takes his place beside him in the lane, _everything_ else drifts away. There isn’t any room for his thoughts to wander because the silence is filled, Makoto’s rhythmic swimming and occasional gentle laugh echoing through the aquaplex, their brief, quiet exchanges filling in the gaps. By the time they have to get out, Haruka’s at peace again. 

“I swear it seems, sometimes, that you can’t survive out of the water, Haru-chan,” Makoto teases as they change, noticing the shift in his mood, because Makoto always does.

“Lay off the _chan,”_ Haruka chides, but the corners of his lips curve slightly once he’s turned his gaze back to his locker. It’s rote. More importantly, it’s _their_ rote. And, this morning, their last before classes begin and their paths truly diverge for the first time since toddlerhood, it’s more than welcome.

By the time they finish showering, the first of the morning staff has come in. Their arrival breaks the quiet, comfortable bubble that had surrounded them, reminding them of what’s waiting for them outside of it just a bit sooner than either of them would have liked. Makoto glances at the clock and Haruka can see the bit of tension that creeps into his shoulders. Haruka feels it, too, a slight cluster of nerves in his gut. They’ll be fine. They both know it. But Haruka can still recall how unnerving it had been for them their first year of Junior High when they’d learned they wouldn’t be in the same class and, compared to this moment, that really hadn’t been anything. This time, they won’t be seeing each other in gym or walking home together. They’ll have to make do with their phones until they can manage to snag a bit of time together again.

“We should go, Haru.”

Haruka blinks, finds himself looking into Makoto’s eyes; they’re soft with understanding and concern, Makoto’s own anxiousness pushed aside to tighten the corners as he, as always, worries about Haruka first. “Ah.” They grab their bags and, as they head out the exit, he quietly assures, “I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Makoto easily agrees. “Haru always is.” He grins a bit. “I know this is a _whole_ lot more, but look at how easily you made friends with Kisumi and the others back in seventh grade, ne?”

Haruka knows that, to some, it’s eerie how closely their minds run. And sometimes, it annoys him to no end how easily Makoto reads him. But, right now, it comforts him, the reminder of the depth of their bond. That said, “Kisumi and I _aren’t_ friends.”

“Haru!”

“He’s annoying.”

“He can come on a bit strong,” Makoto hedges, “But he just has a lot of personality!”

“Annoying,” Haruka persists, and Makoto sighs, and then switches tactics.

“That doesn’t mean he can’t be your friend.” He grins then. “You call me annoying all the time, after all.”

“You are,” Haruka shoots back without hesitation, “But you’re also Makoto, so it’s different.”

“How?” Makoto demands through a laugh, and Haruka looks up at him with something sharp on his tongue, only to have his breath briefly taken as the sun hits Makoto _just right_ through the sakura that are gently shedding blossoms on the barely-there breeze. He jerks his head forward again and shrugs.

“Makoto is Makoto,” he mutters, and then, “You’ll be fine, too. You adapt easier than I do.”

“Mm. I know I will be.” Makoto smiles a bit, a quiet, wistful one. “And maybe I do, a little. But there are still some things I don’t _want_ to adapt to. Ne, Haru,” he begins after another moment or two, before Haruka can even manage an awkward, _me too_ , “You always used to say you couldn’t wait to be ordinary. Do you still want that?”

The timing of the question, so close on the heels of his own earlier speculations, causes Haruka’s breath to catch, even as, in the back of his mind, he registers the odd sort of carefulness with which Makoto asks it. But then the train warning sounds, and Makoto has to run for it. “Good luck today!” he calls with a wave over his shoulder, and then he’s gone in the crowd of people crossing.

Somehow Haruka pulls himself out of it quick enough to make his own train. The rush momentarily distracts him until, of all things, he finds himself actually facing Makoto. _From their separate trains during the build of Tokyo’s morning rush._ It’s only for a few seconds, just long enough to wave, for Haruka to have a glimpse of that sweet, familiar smile, but it’s enough to bring back that sort of breathless warmth that he’s felt more than once since they’ve left Iwatobi. “Ordinary, huh,” he mutters to himself. Whatever that means. In this moment, he doesn’t know. But he suspects that he’ll have to figure out whatever’s going with Makoto and himself before he discovers it.


	5. Chapter 5

Tokyo, Haruka decides, is not what he’d thought it would be. In some ways he’d underestimated it, though—in all fairness—he does know that it would have been hard for a boy from somewhere the size of Iwatobi to properly envision the volume of people and traffic and noise; even one with as vast an imagination as him. But, he thinks as he sits there on a bench, squeezed in beside Asahi and Kisumi and listening as they squabble over Haruka’s phone and how best to prank Makoto, it’s a lot smaller than he’d imagined it would be, too.

Haruka had been more than a little surprised to run across Asahi that morning. He’s always been a bit pragmatic when it comes to things like destiny and fate, but his campus isn’t small, by any stretch, nor is his the only university in Tokyo with a strong swimming program; by now, even _he’s_ finding it hard to write off everything that’s happened in regard to Tokyo to circumstance. Especially when he considers that he can take this very moment and tie it to one he can’t even remember, well before Makoto’s declaration on Obon last year.

Haruka has gotten accustomed to people praising him for his swimming. Until recently, it’s always only been about the water to him, so he’d quickly learned to tune it out, which is why he only has a vague recollection of the pre-junior high races Mikoshiba had brought up when they’d officially met at the first shared practice between Iwatobi and Samezuka. And he’d certainly had no idea he’d left any sort of imprint on the older boy.

Mikoshiba, with his powerful strokes and team energy, has—unsurprisingly—made his impressions, too. He’s been placed in charge of Hidaka’s first years; he’s also the first swimmer on their freestyle relay team. And, apparently, he’s respected enough by the faculty that they’d trusted his opinion when he’d vouched for Haruka. Mikoshiba hasn’t said so, of course, and Haruka has never spoken to him of it, but the scout had had no reservations in telling him how he’d gotten his shot. A warning, Haruka knows; a _don’t make us regret it_ sort of thing. Haruka gets it but, by then, it hadn’t been necessary. He’d had no more doubts about what he’d wanted by then and, though there had been other universities that—despite his abysmal performance at Regionals the year before—had still had some interest in him, Hidaka had given him the most tempting combination of swim and study programs, as well as the best overall offer, not only financially, but in proximity to Makoto. Almost like it had been meant to be all along.

_At twenty, I’ll be—_

“Ah, man! He knew right away!”

Asahi’s blurt forces Haruka away from the thought just as his breath wants to catch with it. He has no idea how his mind had gone from his history with Mikoshiba to… _that_ , but—once again—he’s robbed of the time to examine it. He’s too distracted now, mind split between chasing that thought and Asahi’s conversation, and the latter wins out when Haruka realizes that Asahi had been trying to fool Makoto into thinking that Haruka was on the phone. He can’t help the slight curve of his lips as his eyes roll. Of course Makoto had known right away that it wasn’t.

Haruka’s faint amusement fades altogether when Asahi’s eyes briefly go wide, but then Asahi’s grinning a bit, assuring Makoto that yes, Haruka is there; Kisumi swipes Haruka’s phone from Asahi, and Asahi leans back and looses a soft whistle under his breath.

Haruka’s curiosity is piqued.

“Asa—” he starts, but then Kisumi lets the cat out of the bag and Asahi’s sitting forward, blustering about Kisumi ruining the prank as he takes Haruka’s phone again. Haruka can faintly hear Makoto’s surprised exclamation as Kisumi passes off the device, and he smiles a bit again, isn’t surprised to hear plans quickly being made a few seconds after. He has no doubt that Makoto feels as he does: that it’s good to have this unexpected bit of familiarity in this vast new world they’ve stepped into.

“Right. See you soon, then!” Asahi disconnects the call and hands Haruka’s phone back to him. “Nee-san’s gonna be surprised,” he declares with a grin as he stands, and Haruka’s brow arches slightly as he gets to his feet as well.

“Akane-san?”

“Ah. _Marron_ ’s hers,” Asahi says of the coffee shop to which they’re headed, with no small amount of pride, Haruka notes. “She’s been running it for a while now; since just before she got married.”

“Even after Tsukushi-chan came along,” Kisumi chimes in. “Akane-san’s amazing.”

Haruka nods as he follows the other two, processing the information. He has vague memories of Asahi’s sister. Redheaded like Asahi, trendy, too cool to hang out with her brother and his friends, yet fiercely supportive of them all; Haruka can’t recall a meet where she hadn’t been _somewhere_ in the bleachers cheering them on. It’s slightly surreal to think of her as a married woman with a child now, never mind a businesswoman with her own establishment. Then again, that’s the direction in which they’re all headed, he supposes. In a general sense, at least. 

Kisumi’s phone rings, some J-Pop thing he’s obviously uploaded himself, which Haruka doesn’t find surprising. Asahi slows his pace to give their friend privacy; falls into step beside Haruka. “One day in, and he’s already Mr. Popular,” Asahi says with a smirk and a light roll of his eyes. He chuckles then, gives Haruka a gentle nudge. “Probably be the same for Makoto, ne?”

“Probably,” Haruka agrees with a slight smile. People have always been drawn to Makoto, to his smile and kindness and warmth; Haruka can’t see Tokyo being an exception. Kisumi laughs then and Haruka’s smile fades with it. Some people have been _too_ drawn to Makoto, overly friendly and flirty and handsy, but this time, he’ll have no clue as to who he needs to keep a closer eye on, and the thought of not knowing who they might be is unsettling. What if they aren’t all as harmless as Kisumi had turned out to be? Even if Makoto _were_ interested in having some sort of relationship—which he’s never given any indication that he _is_ —he’d have no clue what to do with someone that persistent and forward.

The thought no sooner passes than Haruka silently scoffs at himself. That’s not the real—or, at least, not the _only_ —reason for his concern, and he knows it. His brow furrows slightly as he slips his hands into his jacket pockets. He doesn’t even believe he can feasibly pass it off as the jealousy he’s _always_ felt when it’s come to people getting _too_ close to Makoto. Not with all the weird feelings and thoughts he’s been having as of late.

“Haru?”

Haruka’s lips briefly press. He just needs time to sort it all through.

“Everything alright?” Asahi continues, and Haruka gives a single nod.

“It’s fine,” he assures, and then, to keep Asahi from any follow up, “You looked odd earlier. After you tried to trick Makoto,” he explains when Asahi gives him a puzzled look. “When Kisumi took the phone.”

“Ah, well.” Asahi grins a bit, sheepishly. “I don’t think Makoto was all too impressed with our joke. Like I said, he knew right away I wasn’t you, and then his voice totally changed after. He wasn’t rude, but it was pretty clear he was done with the messing around.”

“Ah.”

“ _Ah_? That’s it?”

Haruka glances up at Asahi. “Ah.” He resists the urge to roll his eyes when Asahi’s second brow arches with the first. “I wouldn’t have liked it either, if someone had called from Makoto’s phone pretending to be him,” he explains. Never mind the fact that Haruka hardly uses his phone at all anyway, which likely had Makoto a bit concerned from the start, but he doesn’t get into that. “I would have been worried, too. And probably angry,” he confesses with a shrug since Asahi’s still staring. Asahi grins then, and Haruka is surprised.

“Still as close as ever, I see,” Asahi says, and this time Haruka does roll his eyes, but before he can say anything, Kisumi laughs, because _of course_ that’s when Kisumi decides to rejoin the conversation.

“Not really. Just normal,” Kisumi says, and Haruka’s jaw tenses and he looks away, which makes Kisumi laugh again. “That’s what Haru said, anyway, when I made the same comment earlier this spring when he and Makoto came in apartment hunting.”

Asahi starts to laugh, but then, “Wait, what? You knew they were both gonna be in Tokyo?” he blurts, obviously offended because he _hadn’t._

“Mm. I told you, too—or tried to,” he amends with a slight smirk. “The day you came in with the dango. But you had to run off for Akane-san, remember?”

“Ah, mmm,” Asahi mutters with a rub to his jaw, and then, contritely, to Kisumi, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Kisumi soothes with a light hand to Asahi’s arm. Asahi’s cheeks go red, Kisumi’s lips curve higher as he drops the touch with a light skate of his fingers, and Haruka’s brow quirks just slightly before he quickly looks away again, feeling as if he’s witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to.

Fortunately, Akane’s establishment is just the next block up and, better yet, Makoto joins them at _Marron_ just a few minutes after. They catch gazes as Makoto looks around from the door and Makoto’s smile lights his eyes, his entire face, which makes Haruka’s feel warm, and it’s silly, because how many times has Makoto smiled at him before?

Before Haruka can do much more than be irritated, Asahi bursts up from his chair and, in seconds, has crossed over and has gripped Makoto’s hand and opposite shoulder in an exuberant greeting. Haruka smiles as he watches them, Makoto just as happy. They’re a lot alike in ways, he thinks, both bright and warm, both friendly, happy, loyal. He truly is glad that their respective paths have brought them back together again.

“Like the sun, both of them.”

Haruka glances across the table at Kisumi, who actually looks sheepish at having been overheard. “Ah,” he agrees after a second or two, because Kisumi isn’t wrong. Asahi is bright like the summer and Makoto gentle like the spring.

Both boys are still grinning when they join them at the table. Makoto greets Haruka softly as he takes the chair beside him before he’s drawn back into the conversation by Asahi. Their group is the only customers so Akane joins in from the counter; it’s lively and fun, and Haruka can’t help but be drawn in, especially when Asahi brings out some photos. He’s particularly fond of the one of him and Makoto on the gym court. He hadn’t even known that had been taken, and a slight smile graces his lips.

“Look at how young and innocent Haru is!” Kisumi exclaims, and Haruka quirks a brow at him.

“I still am,” he replies, which draws an incredulous look from Asahi—one that Haruka can’t decide if it’s teasing or true.

“How can you say that about yourself?” he demands, but then Kisumi comments on a different photo and how like a monkey Asahi looks, which sends Asahi off into another bluster. Haruka looses a very quiet sigh. He is having fun, but he’d forgotten how draining being around all this energy can be. At least it had just been Nagisa in Iwatobi—unless he’d gotten Rei riled up over something.

“Oh look! It’s Ikuya!”

Haruka’s eyes snap back to the photobook with the declaration, but a different image filters through his mind: a quiet school hall, Ikuya walking past, pained words whispered into Haruka’s ear. His gut lightly clenches. He can feel Makoto’s eyes on him, silently asking after him, but he doesn’t look back; after a few seconds, Makoto lets him be and rejoins the conversation. By its end, _everyone’s_ mood has been affected, and they go their own ways shortly after.

“Haru,” Makoto starts after they’ve walked in silence for a couple of blocks, and then he repeats it, this time with a light touch to the back of Haruka’s hand. It’s unexpected, and Haruka’s eyes jerk upward; Makoto offers him a kind smile. “I’m sure Ikuya’s fine,” he says gently. “I mean, yes, he was disappointed when we had to disband the team, but he was also looking forward to swimming with Natsuya-senpai in America, you know. And I bet you’ll swim with him again before you know it.”

“Makoto?”

Makoto’s smile widens slightly. “Ikuya was good, and he was determined to be better. I’m sure he’s on the same path that Haru is.”

“Ah.” Haruka replies after a moment’s consideration, and he gives Makoto a small smile. “Thanks.” Haruka hopes so. Both for the chance to swim with Ikuya again, and because there is something he needs to make right, a promise made on a shooting star and then broken in his determination to never hurt anyone with his swimming again like he had Rin.


	6. Chapter 6

The week after the reunion at _Marron_ passes by in a blur. The team trains every morning and afternoon and there are classes in between; there are syllabi to learn and initial assignments are doled out. Haruka’s classmates and teammates persist in trying to have conversations with him, and he’s certain he comes across as rude, though he isn’t intentionally so. He just doesn’t like to talk, but they don’t know that. Unlike his peers in Iwatobi, these are strangers, after all. Which also means that Haruka really has no interest in what they have to say—though he does give a bit more attention to his teammates.

The coach is strict and has high expectations, which Mikoshiba enthusiastically enforces. Haruka is glad that Mikoshiba’s been put in charge of the first years. Mikoshiba’s exuberance can still grate harshly against Haruka’s quieter personality, but he’s good, he’s encouraging, and he’s another piece of Iwatobi in this new world that he and Makoto have stepped into. 

Haruka pauses with hand lightly touching the locker door. _He **and** Makoto_, he reminds himself, as he’s had to a few different times this week. Not that he’s had much time, or mental energy, at all to spend on the weirdness of those few days. The business, the physical exhaustion from his training, and the overall drain from all the newness has seen to that. But there have been nights, in the quiet times between collapsing into bed and drifting to sleep, when he’s had nothing else left and the weirdness caused by their separation has surfaced, that he’s found himself clinging to those words. Though it may not feel like it, they _are_ together; he can count on swimming with Makoto every Monday and Wednesday morning, and they’d managed to grab a couple of hours for dinner and studying the night before last. And, while Makoto isn’t with him in the locker room, and won’t be with him poolside, Haruka can still swim to win with, for, his best friend, who he knows without doubt will be there in the bleachers. It’s nowhere near the same, and Haruka doubts that it will ever feel _enough_ , but it’s more than what they could have had, so he’ll take it.

“Ready, Haru?”

Haruka looks over at Asahi and his lips curve up slightly. “Ah.” And he truly is. The water still welcomes Asahi with the same bright, joyful sound as it always has, and Haruka enjoys swimming with, competing with, his friend.

Haruka wins their race, but not easily. It makes him feel good, happy for how the both of them had done. He ends up taking second overall in the 100-meter free, a fantastic first step onto his road to the world, and he’s pleased for how well he’s performed after having just started training at this level. He’s eager to see how much more he can improve between now and the college championships.

Once the set of heats is over and he and Asahi have changed, Asahi, of course, has to challenge him for _next time_ , and Haruka can’t help but grin just a bit. It’s just like old times and he’s in a good enough mood to tease back. “I’ll just beat you next time, too,” he says easily, smile climbing a bit higher when Asahi blusters his response, but then a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye brings Haruka to an abrupt stop. “Ikuya,” he breathes. Asahi hears him, and they give chase.

Despite their best efforts, they don’t end up finding him. By this time, both Makoto and Kisumi are texting, wondering where they’re at. “Just have them meet us in the main corridor,” Haruka tells Asahi. He’s disappointed, yes, but he’s also _so_ glad that Makoto had been right and that Ikuya’s still swimming.

It’s Makoto who, after he and Kisumi find them, thinks of scanning his program for Ikuya’s name, and they all crowd in to look. Makoto’s warm against Haruka’s side, and Haruka is glad for his presence. It steadies him in the wash of emotions and memories the glimpse of Ikuya had sent rushing through him.

Some old guy standing ahead of them in the corridor overhears their conversation and points them to the section of bleachers and Ikuya’s team from Shimogami University. They make their way over and Makoto asks after Ikuya, but Ikuya’s teammates aren’t exactly the most welcoming, which doesn’t go over well with Asahi. The situation quickly spirals out of control and, when Haruka tries to bring it back to Ikuya, they end up being summarily dismissed. Haruka’s lips press slightly as they head back to their seats. The guy who’d _suggested_ they go back to their seats had been polite enough on the surface, but it had been fake, and more than a little off-putting.

The four of them sit just long enough to see Ikuya swim, or that had been their intent, anyway. Before they can get back up, the old guy from the corridor is _right there,_ asking Haruka why he only swims free, completely out of the blue. He walks away as abruptly as he’d come, leaving them all a bit stunned—until Asahi remembers they’re supposed to be trying to catch Ikuya. They look all over, but miss him again, and Haruka can feel Makoto watching him, both then, and several times after they go back to their seats to watch the rest of the races. Haruka meets his gaze a few different times, trying to silently assure him, but he can tell that Makoto isn’t buying it; not fully, anyway. “We’ll try again after the meet,” Makoto murmurs to him at one point, and Haruka nods, but they don’t have any luck then, either, and even Kisumi seems a bit defeated as they head out of the venue.

“Do you think he’s avoiding us?” Kisumi asks as they pause by a vending machine for Asahi, and Makoto laughs softly and shakes his head.

“I don’t think so.” And Haruka agrees. After all, he’d have to know they were looking for him, first, and he doubts that his teammates would have passed it on, given how things had transpired. Asahi offers his own assurances as he straightens with his drink, and Haruka has to smile a bit despite himself as he thinks about how Kisumi had likened him and Makoto to the sun a while back.

“Ah, man!”

Haruka’s eyes go wide as he watches the beverage fizz up all over Asahi. He gets into his bag for his towel and realizes he’s left it at the venue. Telling the others that he’ll meet them at the station, he heads back for it, only to end up face to face with Ikuya on one of the overhead footbridges. The conversation is polite enough on the surface, but there are barbs buried beneath that tell of the hurt that Ikuya still bears; Haruka apologizes, tries to tell him why he’d quit, but Ikuya cuts him off, telling him it’s not important. Haruka can tell they’re just words meant to try and push him away, but before he can try again, Ikuya’s teammate, the one that had sent them back to their seats, comes; after making Haruka feel like a bother again, the guy—Hiyori, Haruka hears Ikuya call him—whisks Ikuya off.

“Ikuya!” Haruka calls, but Ikuya ignores him and keeps walking away. After another moment, Haruka numbly turns and heads back down the steps and toward the station.

“Haru!” Makoto calls when he sees him, “Just in time!” he continues. “Was your towel there?”

Haruka’s eyes go wide, and then they fall closed with a press of his lips. “I never made it,” he says after a second or two, and he hears Makoto murmur his name in confusion. The train comes then and, thankfully, it’s too packed to facilitate a private conversation, so he has time to gather himself before they get off at the stop near _Marron._

Haruka doesn’t waste any time once they’re inside and seated. He doesn’t really _want_ to talk about it at all, but he’s felt the weight of their gazes on him for near the entire trip and, besides, Ikuya’s their friend, too. They’re in this together, even Kisumi, though Kisumi had never swam. Not that Kisumi’s determination and concern surprises Haruka. Kisumi might not have been part of their team, or even ever in the water with them, but he’d eaten lunch with Asahi, Ikuya and him every day, they’d played together, and Kisumi had attended every meet he could while they’d been swimming.

“He _is_ mad at us, then,” Kisumi says quietly after Haruka shares what had happened. Kisumi's expression softens as Asahi tries to take the brunt of the guilt on himself and Haruka drops his gaze away. Out of all of them, Asahi holds the _least_ amount of fault. They’d been twelve and thirteen at the time; it hadn’t been as if Asahi had been able to tell his parents that he wasn’t moving with them. But he feels Asahi’s sorrow down to his bones. Because Haruka _knows_ that, had _he_ not quit, Makoto wouldn’t have either. And they each _had_ been in charge of their choice.

“We know where he is now,” Makoto says gently, trying to assure the group, but largely Haruka; Haruka can tell in how Makoto glances at him as he continues and suggests that they all go together. Asahi agrees and they start to talk about when, and Haruka’s lips lightly press as he idly toys with his water. It’s more of a plan than they had, but he wonders how the four of them will ever find time for it. And part of him wonders if, when they manage it, Ikuya will even want to listen.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they leave the cafe, Haruka’s achievement at the competition earlier is the furthest thing from his mind. Makoto is quiet, too, but Haruka can tell from the weight of the occasional glance cast in his direction that it’s more borne out of concern for Haruka than anything to do with Ikuya or his teammate.

Haruka’s jaw tightens slightly. He feels badly for making Makoto worry when Makoto has other things to spend that energy on. His class load is heavier than Haruka’s and two of them have labs as well as lectures, plus he’s trialing a few different clubs before he has to commit for fulfilling his university’s requirements. But Haruka knows that it’s pointless to tell Makoto not to; that he’s fine. Makoto will always worry about Haruka, just as Haruka will always worry about him. Besides, he’d promised them both he wouldn’t run from his feelings anymore.

“Haru.” Haruka looks up at the gentle call of his name. He sees Makoto’s smile and, while there are still signs of his worry, too, some of that tension bleeds from his body. In that moment, he realizes that they’ve walked past their station; Makoto must see his surprise and confusion because his smile changes from _Haruka-specific_ to one of light amusement.

Before Haruka can ask what it’s all about, the light changes. Makoto’s expression shifts with it, excitement now lighting his expressive eyes as he takes hold of Haruka’s hand and tugs him into hurrying across the street. Haruka stumbles for a second, he’s that unprepared for it. Makoto squeezes his hand in apology since he’s too busy politely weaving his way through the throng of people toward… wherever it is they’re going to do anything else. And, since Haruka has no idea where that may be, he has no choice but to hold on. He doesn’t mind, not really, but it’s strange a bit, too; he can’t recall the last time they’d held hands outside of Makoto pulling him from the pool or tub.

No, he definitely doesn’t mind it, he decides, though he might just a little when his stomach flips as he thinks it.

As soon as they’re across the street, Haruka realizes where Makoto is taking him. The place, in and of itself, isn’t anything special; just one of countless bubble tea stands smattered across Tokyo. It’s what Makoto is taking him _for_ that warms Haruka through, or more the timing of it. Makoto’s mom had started the practice years ago, before Nagisa had even been a part of them; she’d treated them to bubble tea as a celebration of sorts after their first official match, and he and Makoto had continued the tradition whenever possible, even after Makoto’s mom had stopped coming with them because of the twins. Truth told, Haruka hadn’t even been thinking about it, but how like Makoto to have been, he thinks as they get into line, and he’s grateful because, now that he _is_ , he realizes he would have missed it.

“Man, the crowd!” Haruka looks over at Makoto, then gets bumped _into_ Makoto before he can even agree; apparently everyone had shared Makoto’s idea for one reason or another. “Oh, Haru, are you okay?” Makoto asks solicitously and, after Haruka nods, Makoto smiles a bit then glances around. “Go wait by that flower shop,” he murmurs with a tip of his chin to the next storefront down. “It’s okay, really,” he cuts in gently when Haruka opens his mouth to protest. “I know you don’t like crowds, and you’re probably feeling it even more after today, huh? So let me get this!” he says with a soft laugh when all Haruka can do is close his mouth and glance away.

After another second or two, Haruka nods and murmurs his thanks. It isn’t until Makoto lightly squeezes his waist and then drops his arm that Haruka realizes it was even there; that Makoto had brought it up to steady him when he’d been knocked into. Warmth rushes through him again, a different sort than from a few moments ago, and that weird feeling makes itself known in his gut even more strongly than when Makoto had taken his hand.

As he steps away, he hears Makoto call his name in concern, but he pretends to not hear; for once, Haruka is actually glad for the mass of people, as being near Makoto had suddenly become nearly as stifling. Haruka doesn’t understand why, doesn’t get the mental, or physical, confusion, and it irritates him. Makoto is tactile, always has been and, for the most part, Haruka has never minded it; personal space has never been a thing between them. Even during those years that Haruka had withdrawn, there hadn’t been that line between them. So why is it suddenly mattering now? Why can he still feel the weight and warmth of an arm that he hadn’t even known had been there until it hadn’t been?

It’s nearly the same thing he’s been feeling about Makoto himself, Haruka realizes, eyes going slightly wide. He huffs softly with it, feeling as if it at once explains everything yet doesn’t. He’d come to terms two days into his move that he misses Makoto’s presence and that it’s going to take some time to adjust. But it’s almost like he’s hyper-fixated on it at times, which is what he doesn’t get. Though, he’ll be the first to admit, he does have his addictions.

He’d just never really considered Makoto one before.

“Phew, finally! Here you go, Haru-chan.”

Haruka blinks, then hums his thanks as he takes the tea from Makoto. “No _chan,_ ” he corrects a belated second later; Makoto laughs and apologizes, as he usually does, and Haruka’s lips curve up slightly at the sound as he pops the straw. He takes a sip of the tea and then pulls back in surprise and glances up. “Makoto.”

Makoto grins softly around his straw, lets it slide past his lips. “There goes that cloud,” he intones, and Haruka instantly flushes and turns his head away. It’s another bit of his—of their—childhood, going back even further than the bubble tea itself: whenever his grandmother had sensed that Haruka was down, she’d slip just a bit of honey into his preferred milk tea. It’s the one sweet he has the occasional slight tooth for, and it had always surprised him right out of whatever mood had settled over him at the time. And she’d always responded with the words that Makoto had.

“Is it still good with the cold tea?” Makoto asks; Haruka isn’t ready to look back at him yet, but he nods and quietly thanks him. “Mm. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, especially after everything with Ikuya,” he says after another few seconds, “and when I saw the honey, I thought _ah._ I know it’s just a small thing, but I’m glad it’s good.”

“It’s not. A small thing,” Haruka turns his head to clarify when he feels Makoto’s surprised look. “It helped. A lot. Makoto always helps,” he says even more softly as he looks straight ahead again, and he feels himself color again when he hears Makoto’s soft, _Haru!_

“I always want to,” Makoto continues, and something in Makoto’s voice makes Haruka glance up at him again; there’s an intensity to Makoto’s gaze that causes Haruka’s to widen, but then it’s Makoto’s turn to blush and look away. “Haru always helps me, you know?”

“Ah,” he replies after studying Makoto’s profile for a second or two longer, and then he turns his attention back to his tea. Because what else can he say? He can’t deny it, and he isn’t certain enough of what, exactly, he’d seen; what, precisely, he’s feeling, to try and push for more. He’s not usually wrong when it comes to Makoto, but he’s tired, from the competition, from his guilt and worry over whatever’s going on with Ikuya. Maybe there hadn’t been anything to it after all, he decides, but even as he does, he can’t quite bring himself to believe it.


	8. Chapter 8

Time just gets crazier after the newcomer tournament. Lectures and assignments quickly become more involved, the team is practicing more, and more intensely; before Haruka knows it, April is completely gone, Golden Week has flown by, and they’re well into May.

Haruka isn’t sure who it had bothered more that he hadn’t been able to go back home for the extended weekend, him, or Makoto, but he _does_ know that he’s glad that Makoto is back. Or will be, soon, he revises as he glances at the sleek digital clock across from his tub—an irritating thing, but necessary, as Haruka had begrudgingly admitted to Makoto after Makoto had presented it to him prior to his departure since, _we’re in university now; you’re gonna have to get out of the tub on your own **sometimes** , Haru-chan!_

Haruka supposes he doesn’t mind it _too_ much. It’s not Makoto, but Makoto had bought it for him, so.

It’s been odd, thinking of Makoto being home; of Iwatobi’s Makoto without Haruka. Haruka knows that Makoto’s had plenty to fill his time between his family, Nagisa and Rei. He’s received texts daily with little anecdotes and photos, and Haruka could probably start an album of Iwatobi’s cats alone, he thinks with fondness. But it’s still odd to think of Makoto experiencing these things on his own that had been daily occurrences for _them_. He wonders if Makoto feels it too; thinks that he probably does. Makoto’s had no issue in telling Haruka that he misses him, after all. So, it likely _is_ odd for Makoto, too.

Haruka’s brow furrows softly as he idly runs his hand back and forth through the water’s surface. Haruka in Tokyo. Makoto in Iwatobi. They’re like a broken set, he thinks, and—again—it’s something that both of them feel. Have they really become so codependent on each other?

The crease in Haruka’s brow deepens. _Codependent._ That doesn’t feel right to him, because they’re both surviving just fine without being in each other’s pocket. And nothing about his friendship with Makoto has ever felt _unhealthy_ to him. As Haruka considers his other relationships, those with his family included, it’s probably the healthiest he’s had; definitely the most stable. They love each other, Haruka won’t deny that. He’s never come out and said those exact words like Makoto has, but Makoto knows it’s returned, just as surely. They’ve loved each other for years, though; since well before that first verbal confession of it, Haruka knows. So maybe all this oddness, this sense of being incomplete, really is just the two of them still adjusting to being apart after having spent their entire lives together.

That doesn’t feel quite right to him either, but it’s better than _codependent_ , and it’s _still_ the only thing he’s come up with whenever he’s had time to try and think things out—and now his phone is ringing, Makoto’s tone, and he’d much rather _talk_ to Makoto than keep thinking about what he _feels_ toward him.

“Haru,” Makoto greets once Haruka’s dried off his hand well enough to bring the call up on speaker. “H—oh, excuse me!” he breaks off to apologize, and Haruka’s brows arch as he shifts slightly to rest his arms against the edge of the tub. “Hi,” Makoto finishes, but he’s slightly breathless now, and his voice a bit off as he raises it to be heard over the train signals.

“Makoto, where are you?”

“Still at the main station, actually. Mom and the twins sent presents for next time I saw you, and I thought I’d call you first instead of heading home. See if you had plans or if I could come by.”

Haruka closes his eyes and ducks his head as the flutter makes itself known again. _For the next time I saw you_ means the gifts could have waited, which means that Makoto’s really saying that he doesn’t want to wait until _whenever_ to see Haruka. 

“Haru-chan?”

“No _chan,_ ” Haruka chides by rote, and then, “When have I ever had plans?”

Makoto just laughs, and then, “So it’s okay then?”

“Ah.”

“Oh, good. Ahh, there’s the train out your way! See you soon, Haru!”

The phone beeps three times when the call drops, and Haruka’s lips curve up as he opens his eyes and turns to reach for the drain. There’s no _real_ need to rush; Makoto’s a good forty minutes out, barring any delays. But he’s sure to be hungry after the train travel—or to at least need a real meal after surviving the trip on the snacks that Haruka has no doubt his mom had stocked him up with.

Haruka thinks about what he has available as he dresses in track pants and a lightweight hoodie. He has fresh mackerel on hand, as always, but decides to make okonomiyaki by flaking some of his tinned. He knows Makoto doesn’t mind the fillets as Haru cooks them, but that he’s very fond of the other. He doesn’t have anything sweet for afters, but he’s not overly concerned about it. He’ll be surprised if there aren’t cookies in what Makoto’s mom has sent back for him.

The time passes quickly once he starts with the food prep, and it’s almost forty minutes exactly when the knock comes to Haruka’s door. “Come,” he calls over his shoulder, and he hears it open beneath the sound of the batter sizzling on his hotplate as he pours it.

“Hi, Har—” Makoto starts after he excuses himself in, but then he interrupts himself. “Oh, something smells _good!_ ” He laughs then, soft and slightly sheepish, as he pauses to take off his shoes. “Sorry, Haru. Mom’s snacks were good and all, but breakfast was a long time ago. Ah, okonomiyaki!” he exclaims as he comes toward the kitchen. “You’re too good to me, Haru-chan.”

“It’s fine,” Haruka replies, forgoing the chastisement for once, or to silently gloat that he’d been right, because he hadn’t realized how lonely quiet could be until Makoto had come back to fill it. He thinks it must be because they’d been so _far_ apart for so _long,_ because they’ve been apart before, and it’s never hit him this strongly. He can feel warmth in his cheeks and he’s glad to be over the hotplate. “You can get the plates,” he instructs to put his focus back on something tangible, but he quickly realizes that it was a mistake as Makoto crowds into the small space with him to do as he’d been told. Haruka can smell him, can feel his warmth even though they never touch, and he feels as if holes he’d not even realized he’d had have suddenly been filled.

And then Makoto brushes up against him as he sets the plates to Haruka’s left, but it’s not the tease of contact that pushes everything to the brink of overflowing. It’s the hushed apology and hint of pink in Makoto’s cheek and ear as he busies himself getting the chopsticks that tells Haruka that Makoto had felt it, too.

There is a particular smell that cabbage gives off just before it starts to burn, and it’s that which pulls Haruka’s attention back to the grill from staring at the now-empty space. Face hot and heart pounding, Haruka flips the okonomiyaki, and his lips press when he sees the very slight tremor through his hand. For as eager as he’d been to see his best friend, in this moment, he wants to retreat to the tub just as badly, and he’s suddenly angry, because how dare this… _whatever it is_ steal something away that he’s been looking forward to for almost as long as Makoto’s been gone?

“Ne, Haru, mom sent back cookies; she packaged them up for your freezer, but I can leave one out, if you want?”

And why doesn’t Makoto seem as effected by it all as he does?

“Ahh, I’ll just leave them all here and you can decide after we eat,” Makoto calls in when Haruka doesn’t answer, and Haruka feels vindicated a little when it’s followed by a slightly strained laugh, because maybe Makoto is after all.

“Put one on the table. I’ll get the rest later,” he instructs as flips the first okonomiyaki onto a plate and covers it with the spare. His lips curve up slightly as he pours the batter for the second. “And next time, just say that you want some.”

“Mean, Haru!”

“Ah. So mean that I’m cooking you dinner.”

Makoto sputters as he tries to come up with a response and Haruka laughs softly to himself.

From that point on, things go as they always have. Haruka brings out the plates, Makoto raves over his cooking, they eat in a mixture of comfortable silence and small bursts of conversation. Haruka tells Makoto what little’s happened with him, lets him know that Asahi wants to meet later in the week to talk about Ikuya again; Makoto shares what he hadn’t been able to by text about the goings on at home. By the time the meal’s done, Haruka feels filled in more ways than one, though with a twinge of bittersweetness. He truly does miss Iwatobi.

“Next time, we’ll go back together.” Haruka looks up, sees Makoto’s soft, understanding smile from where he’s leaning back on his hands. “You already know you have a few days at Obon, ne?”

“Ah,” Haruka confirms with a slight smile of his own, but then it falls and his head tilts slightly. “What is it?” he asks after studying Makoto’s face for a second or two.

Makoto gives a soft laugh, part sheepish, part tired. “It’s bad. Or silly, at least,” he amends when Haruka arches a brow. That, Haruka will buy. Makoto’s not perfect, but he doesn’t believe he’s capable of anything inherently _bad._ “I feel like I just got here and that I’m eating and running, but I really should get going. But I don’t _want_ to leave, even though, after almost a week away and with everything that needs done and that I have coming due, home’s where I probably should have thought of going to first.”

“Stay then.” But even as Haruka says it, he knows it’s not as simple as that.

“I’d love to. I really would. But I can’t.” Makoto sighs, makes himself stand. “Especially if I’m going to meet you and the guys back here mid-week.” He moves over to the genkan and stoops to put on his shoes, though tips his head to give Haruka a smile as he does so. “At least its only three days this time though. That makes it easier. Leaving now,” he explains quietly when Haruka tilts his head slightly in question.

Haruka feels himself warm, dips his head, but he softly hums his agreement and, when he looks up with the motion of Makoto grabbing his jacket, he sees a similar pink in Makoto’s cheeks. “Text me when you get home,” he manages. Makoto promises and then he’s gone, and Haruka’s left sitting and staring at the emptiness he feels to his very bones.

He knows what this is now. At least, he thinks he knows. But he can’t bring himself to even _think_ the actual words. It’s just one more change, one more new thing on top of everything else, and he’s tired and afraid and he _can’t._ So, when he gets up, he goes to the homework on his desk instead of to bed or even the tub so that he can fill his head and put off admitting to himself that he might be _in_ love with Makoto just a little bit longer.

Never mind the likelihood that Makoto might be in love with him too.


	9. Chapter 9

Three days ends up being eleven. Something comes up with Asahi last minute which, unfortunately, seems to be better for all involved. The professors and Haruka's coach seem to have redoubled their efforts now that golden week is over with and the year is truly underway; none of them end up getting together as they’d planned.

Makoto settles on an anime review club and a casual swimming circle, things which he obviously enjoys, but which will also help him as he works toward his dream. Haruka is proud of his choices and tells him so the next time they meet to swim. Makoto still comes as he has been, but even that isn’t the same now that the center has shifted to its summer schedule. He persists, though; says that it may be more crowded, but it’s still _time in the water with Haru_ , and Haruka doesn’t dissuade him. He feels the same way.

The nights are the hardest for Haruka. It’s not just a matter of lying there and missing Makoto anymore. No, now that the possibility that he and Makoto are _in_ love with each other has taken root in his head, multiple _what ifs_ persist on sprouting, some of which warm him and some of which flat out make him hot and his face burn with color. At first he hates it, because he doesn’t want them to change, but they have already, haven’t they? And he knows that ignoring it won’t make it stop and will likely only change them more. It’ll eventually make them awkward and stilted around each other, and isn’t that what he’s afraid of? That acknowledging and giving into it will make things uncomfortable anyway? Which is actually a pretty foolish worry, Haruka thinks, seeing as he’s fairly certain that Makoto feels the same way.

So, if they’re already changing, and they both (probably!) feel the same way, what is it that he’s truly afraid of?

After spending a few nights chasing those thoughts, Haruka finally sees it. He’s afraid that, for some reason, things won’t work out and that he’ll lose Makoto completely. But even as he admits that to himself, he questions that he really would. He and Makoto have been through some pretty hard, intense things together; have made mistakes and have hurt each other pretty badly. But they’ve always come back together, have always healed, stronger than before. 

_So what are you going to do about it?_ That’s the question that’s haunting him now, and he has no clue how to answer it. Does he need to be sure that _in love_ is what this is first? And if so, how does he figure _that_ out since he’s never been before? Haruka gives an impatient huff as he pulls the zabuton out from under the table and distributes them around. He’s tired of thinking about it, wants the answers _now_ so that, one way or another, they can put this weirdness behind them.

Someone knocks at his door, either Kisumi or Asahi since it’s not Makoto’s knock, and Haruka drops the last cushion and goes to answer it. It’s Asahi, by himself; he excuses himself in and then quirks a brow at him as he toes off his shoes. “I interrupt something?” he asks and Haruka’s lips lightly press as he gives a single shake of his head, but he’s not really surprised that Asahi’s picked up on his irritation. Nobody will ever read him as well as Makoto, but Asahi’s always been more aware of his friends and their feelings than the others. Plus, Haruka spends more time with the redhead than he does Makoto these days, and not just in the pool. They don’t have any classes together, but they have two that are the same and with the same professor; they’ll study together before or after practice, and they meet for lunch quite a bit, sometimes with Kisumi. And speaking of…

“Kisumi coming on his own tonight?”

“Nah. He’s got a draft due tomorrow that he had to put off; Katsumi-san, he gets migraines, and Kisumi had to do a couple of showings for him as soon as he was done with class,” he explains, “But he didn’t want us to put this off again. He knows how much we all want it resolved, him included.”

“Ah,” Haruka agrees quietly, but then his eyes narrow slightly, Asahi’s natural flush is more pronounced and there’s something different in his eyes. “ _You’re_ not getting sick again, are you?”

“Huh? When was I sick?”

Haruka’s brow furrows and he looks over his shoulder as they cross over to the table. “Last week. When you canceled out.” Asahi had still come to class and practices, but he’d looked terrible and his times had been even worse, though he’d seemed much better after the weekend. “Asahi?” he asks when Asahi just gapes at him and goes a deep red in lieu of a response.

“I… that… I wasn’t sick, Haru! Well, not in the traditional sense,” he tacks on in a mutter as he drops to the floor, but that just confuses Haruka more; after a moment or two, Asahi brings a hand up to run down his face. “Kisumi and me, we’re together now,” he says after he drops it. Haruka’s eyes widen and his lips part, but then he quickly moistens them and closes his mouth as he finally sits as well. “It just happened over the weekend,” Asahi says to the silent question, and then Haruka’s lips curve into a smile.

“I’m happy for you,” he says sincerely, and he can see Asahi’s relief. His heart aches just slightly because of it. They’re all good friends, yes, but it’s not like they’ve talked about stuff like _that_ with each other before. And Haruka knows he would have felt nervous, too, coming out, despite how close they all are. His jaw tenses slightly. Yet another piece of this _thing_ between him and Makoto that he now has to think about.

“Haru?”

Haruka starts to shake his head and then pauses. Asahi and Kisumi haven’t been friends for as long as he and Makoto, but they’ve been friends for a good long time, and Haruka knows that they'd kept in contact, and had even seen each other a time or two, after Asahi had moved. He moistens his lips again, fingers curling in toward his palms where his hands rest on his thighs, and then he looks over at Asahi. “How did you know? That you liked him. Like that,” he tacks on when he sees Asahi’s confusion.

“How did I know?” Asahi echoes, and Haruka nods. “I guess—” Asahi pauses, but not to think, at least not _about_ his answer. Haruka can tell that he’s lost _in_ the thought that he’s sharing, by the soft smile and light in his eyes. “I guess when, despite everything changing and all the times we had to be apart, Kisumi was still my most important person.”

Haruka nods. It makes sense. After all, despite everything, Makoto is still his. But—"How did you _know_?” he presses. “That you were _in_ love, instead of just… “

“Loving him?”

“Ah.”

Asahi smirks. “I love all my friends, but I don’t lay awake at night thinking about you guys or feel like I wanna die if I don’t see you for a few days. I mean, there was always a piece of me in Iwatobi with you guys; a piece that Ikuya still has even with all this crap he’s putting us through now. But the piece that Kisumi has is so much bigger.” Asahi colors slightly even as his smile grows. “I just didn’t know by how much ‘til I saw him again this spring after I hadn’t for so long. And then, when we fought—Haru, are you okay?”

Haruka’s cheeks warm in embarrassment, his breath having audibly caught as his mind had immediately taken him back to last Obon. “Ah. Sorry.”

“You sure?” Haruka nods, and then Asahi does. “Okay. Well, last week, when we were _supposed_ to meet, Kisumi suddenly couldn’t because of one of his clubs. I got mad,” Asahi says quietly. “Said some things I shouldn’t have, then _he_ got mad. It was horrible. He wouldn’t talk to me or text me or nothing.” He laughs humorlessly. “The whole reason why I _got_ mad was because I’m in love with him and I was jealous, and afraid I would lose him, and I ended up losing him anyway.”

“But you didn’t,” Haru says quietly after a moment, and Asahi smiles again.

“No. I figured I owed him an apology, regardless, and when I went to give it, he agreed to talk. One thing led to another, and…” Asahi trails off, that bright color back again, and Haruka holds his hand up with a hinted smirk.

“It’s okay. I get it.” He sobers then, drops his gaze to his hands. “Makoto and I fought. Back on Obon. And it was bad. I thought I was losing him, too. But that was before…” Haruka trails off, fingers curling in tighter, and he softly tsks at himself, because it’s stupid that the thought of saying it _aloud_ has him feeling this way.

“Before you thought you might be _in_ love with him?” Asahi asks, and Haruka relaxes in his relief, even as his face warms again.

“Ah.”

Asahi laughs, soft and warm. “So it didn’t happen in the same order. That doesn’t mean anything. Besides, you and Makoto have known you’re each other’s most important person since I’ve known you! It’s still the same even now, ne?”

“Ah.”

“And that’s why you’re confused?” Haruka nods and Asahi softly huffs, falls back against the edge of the bed and looks at ceiling a moment or two. “‘kay, then what’s happened to make you think it might be _in_ love instead of love? You don’t have to answer,” he says quickly when he notices Haru’s discomfort. “Just think about it.” He chuckles then, and Haruka’s brow furrows with it.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Asahi shakes his head. “Just thinking that the fact that you’re even talking about it might be the biggest indicator of all.” He grins then. “Is that what had you looking so pissy before?”

Haruka scowls as the heat rushes his face again and he turns his head away. “Be quiet.” Asahi laughs and extends a foot to nudge Haruka’s closest leg. “At least I wasn’t moping to where my friends thought I was _sick,”_ he says pointedly as he bats Asahi’s foot away.

“Hey!” Asahi sputters, and Haruka can’t help but smirk, which makes Asahi snort in amusement. “Fine. Whatever. But you were feeling it enough that _I_ noticed, and that’s saying something. No, wait!” he blurts, instantly realizing how that had sounded, and Haruka’s laughing before he can stop it; Asahi joins him and then, as they stop, Asahi drops back onto his hands again. “Man, we’re a mess,” he mutters softly, and Haruka has no choice but to hum in agreement. “But it’s worth it. And it’ll be for you, too. I know it.”

“…thanks.”

“Ah.” Asahi rolls onto his side slightly to snag the bag he’d brought in. “Snacks,” he says with a grin when he shifts back and sees Haru’s arched brow. “And English,” he adds dryly, then he smirks. “’least this way you can blame your sour face on that. Makoto’s running late, but he’s gotta be close, and if _I_ can pick up that something’s off—”

Haruka pouts a bit but knows that Asahi’s right, and he holds out his hand. “Just… be quiet and give me the book.”

_Think about it._

Asahi’s words echo back as he flips through the pages. He’s done plenty of that. After hearing Asahi talk about him and Kisumi, he doesn’t have to anymore. He knows. Which means he knows what he has to do about it, now. He has to tell Makoto. He just has to figure out how and when.


	10. Chapter 10

Not much comes out of the meeting that night. Makoto is stressed when he walks in. Haruka can see it, though Makoto—of course—tries to hide it with his smile. Haruka doesn’t feel right calling him out with Asahi right there, so he just lets Makoto do his thing; lets him and Asahi do most of the talking. But the three of them can’t get their schedules to mesh for _days_ and, when they finally do, Makoto brings up the point that they don’t know _Ikuya’s_ schedule, never mind whether he has accommodations on campus or an apartment elsewhere, and they end up parting ways feeling even more discouraged than before.

“We’ll figure it out, Haru-chan,” Makoto says gently in the genkan while he waits for Asahi to finish packing up his things. Haruka nods and then tips his head slightly, silently asking after him, and Makoto’s lips curve just a bit higher. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s… just a lot to get used to, still.”

Haruka nods, eyes gentling. That, he truly understands. “You will.”

“We both will.”

“Ah.”

Asahi comes into the genkan then and he and Makoto leave a minute or two after. For once, sleep comes easily to Haruka after Makoto texts that he’s home. Maybe he should be more concerned about talking to Makoto and how Makoto will react than he is, but for now, it’s enough, having put a name to what’s been going on with him.

To Haruka’s surprise, it’s Kisumi who finally gives them an edge in regard to Ikuya, or so he claims to. He sends a group text a few days after the meeting at Haruka’s apartment, and the four of them manage to arrange about an hour’s time at _Marron_ the same day, after Haruka and Asahi are done practice.

Makoto’s there first this time, and Haruka actually stops in the doorway when he sees him. He’s up at the counter with Tsukushi cradled in his arms, the baby giggling as Makoto makes funny faces down at him. Each time Tsukushi laughs, Makoto giggles back, and Haruka thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“God, you’ve got it so bad,” Asahi whispers with a snicker behind him. Haruka’s face warms and he stalks forward, not deigning him with a response. “Not that I blame you,” Asahi continues as they head toward what’s become their table. “They’re pretty damned cute together.”

Haruka gives a curt nod as he slips into his seat and then he silently sighs and lets it go. He can’t be _too_ irritated, he supposes. It’s the first time that Asahi has teased even though it’s been days since they’d talked, and besides, it’s true. “He played with the twins like that when they were babies. I’m sure Tsukushi reminds him of them.”

Akane comes out then, greets them when she sees them, and Makoto turns in their direction in surprise before sheepishly handing Tsukushi back to Akane when she laughs and holds her hands out for him. “You should have said something!” he says as he joins them, taking the seat next to Haruka.

Asahi grins and shakes his head. “Nah. You were having too much fun. Besides, we just got here.”

Makoto nods and then tilts his head slightly. “No Kisume?”

“Not yet. He’ll be here, though.”

“He better.” Asahi looks over at Haruka, brow arched. “He’s the one who called us here, and Makoto has club in just over an hour.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Makoto assures, and Haruka looks at him, eyes slightly narrowed.

“ _If_ you’ve eaten already,” he hedges, knowing full well that Makoto hasn’t; that he’d come directly from his anatomy I lecture.

Akane comes with their coffees before Makoto can say anything, but he doesn’t have to. His awkward laugh gives him away. “Busted,” Asahi sing-songs lightly, and Makoto pouts at him around Akane before tipping a smile up at her as she steps back.

“Thanks, Akane-san.” He wraps a hand around the mug and then his eyes go wide a second later when he realizes that she’s giving him the same sort of look that Haruka is from behind him. “Fine, fine,” he acquiesces with a defeated laugh, and he asks Akane for an omurice and a water, cheeks coloring slightly as Akane smirks and winks at Haruka over his shoulder. “I think I’m glad I’m the oldest sibling,” Makoto mutters as she turns away.

“Not anymore!”

“Welcome to my world.”

“Stop pouting.” Haruka’s reply comes with Akane’s and Asahi’s and Makoto just… gapes, which sends Asahi into a fit of laughter. “Close your mouth, Makoto. You look like a mackerel,” Haruka intones placidly beneath it as he brings his cup up. Makoto’s lips part further in surprise, but then he snorts and shakes his head.

“Coming from Haru, I suppose I should say _thanks for the compliment_ ,” he says dryly.

A moment or two later, the bell sounds at the door. Kisumi breezes in with it, apologizing for being late, and Asahi instantly starts in on him. Had it not been for Asahi’s confession a few nights back, Haruka swears he’d never know that they’re together, it’s that much the same as before. He actually smiles a bit. If they can be like that, he has to believe that he and Makoto can be, too.

Akane brings Makoto’s omurice once Kisumi gets settled in; as she leaves, Kisumi tells them about his senpai that’s dating someone on Ikuya’s team. He pulls out his planner and then points to the day the girl had said Ikuya’s team has off from practice. Asahi lights up, saying that he’s free; Haruka confirms for himself and Makoto who sends him a grateful look and then quietly thanks him once he’s swallowed the bite he’d taken. 

“You should definitely go that day, then!”

Makoto’s brow arches. “ _You?”_ he echoes, looking over at Kisumi as he cuts off another spoonful. “You’re not coming with us?”

“Another club day,” Kisumi says regretfully, which riles Asahi up again, and Haruka can’t help but be glad for Akane that they’re the only customers in as Asahi pulls Kisumi into a playful headlock and lightly shakes him. “Asahi, stop!” Kisumi pleads softly, and slightly breathlessly, between the jostling and his laughter; Asahi’s cheeks take on a different hue of pink and he does as bidden, nose lightly touching Kisumi’s temple as he murmurs an apology before easing away and sliding the arm he’d slung around Kisumi’s shoulders down to take Kisumi’s hand.

Kisumi’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly as he looks at Asahi, but his expression softens when he notes how Asahi isn’t looking at _any_ of them. Something warm, and slightly sharp, shifts through Haruka’s core and he recognizes it as jealousy—not the sort he feels over people’s inappropriate attentions to Makoto, but a softer sort. It’s a want for what they have; the whispers, the soft, intimate touches, the holding hands, and his fingers curl in toward his palm as they itch with the faint residual memory of Makoto’s grip from the night of the welcome tournament.

Haruka chances a sidelong glance at his best friend; Makoto’s lips are curved upward, his cheeks the slightest pink, his entire expression radiating a soft happiness for the two across the table. The complete lack of surprise tells Haruka that Makoto had known, or had at least suspected, but he’s more curious as to how long than bothered by the thought of Kisumi using Makoto as his confidant. Had Makoto been interested in Kisumi’s advances, Kisumi would have had him long ago. Then again, Haruka thinks as he looks back at their friends and how completely enamored they obviously are of each other, maybe they hadn’t been advances at all. Kisumi’s always had an uncanny awareness of the depths of his bond with Makoto, and Haruka _knows_ that Kisumi likes to rile him up…

_Annoying._

“So, should we plan on meeting at Shimo’s main entrance, then?” Makoto gently steers the conversation back to… well, _conversing_ , finishing up what’s left of his meal while they firm up when and where. It seems like they’ve barely managed it when Makoto puts his spoon onto his empty plate with a sigh. “I’ve got to get,” he says as he shifts to fish his wallet out of his backpack. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Asahi is quick to assure. He smiles a bit, but a bit forlornly. “It sucks that we have to _try_ and make time, the four of us, but it’s just life right now. And we’re making it work, yeah?”

Some of that guilt leaves Makoto’s eyes and his smile becomes more genuine. “Yeah.”

_…making it work._

Haruka’s reaching into his satchel for his wallet before Asahi’s words fully echo. “I’ll walk with you to the station,” he says in response to Makoto’s questioning look, and ignoring the knowing ones from the opposite side of the table, he puts his money down, too, silently echoing Makoto’s confirmation of plans and goodbye with a nod to their friends.

“You didn’t have to leave, too,” Makoto says once they’re on the sidewalk, “but I’ll be selfish and say I’m glad you did.” The last half of his sentence is quieter, slightly shy, and Haruka’s stomach does that now-familiar flip; he _really_ curses the lack of time they have when Makoto goes on to say, “It feels forever since it’s just been us—outside of swim, of course.”

“Ah,” Haruka agrees and then, after taking a subtle breath, “We should fix that. Next semester,” he continues in response to the way Makoto’s head tilts to ask him _how._ “Since we know what it’s really like now, we could plan things a little better.” Makoto’s eyes widen in comprehension and then a smile bursts over his face, so gentle and warm that Haruka has to look away from it.

“Mm,” he agrees as they stop to wait for the light. “Even if we only end up able to have one afternoon free, it’d be better than what we have now. And hopefully all of this with Ikuya will be resolved by then. Not that I mind spending time on it,” Makoto adds hurriedly. “It’s important, too. I j—”

“Makoto.”

“Ah, hm?”

“It’s fine. Fixing things with Ikuya _is_ important,” Haruka continues as the light changes and they start to walk again. “But I agree with Makoto, too.” Finding time to carve out is hard; it would be nice to be able to spend it just being together like they used to.

“Mm. It’d be nice to just get together instead of worry and plan,” Makoto verbally echoes, and Haruka doesn’t have to ask if he means with Asahi and Kisumi or just with him. Haruka _knows._ He means it the same way that Haruka had; both, but with priority going to _them._

“We’ll do it, then. As soon as they put our class schedules out.”

“Mm. Oh!” Makoto softly exclaims as they come up to the stop; they can see the bus approaching from the other direction and his shoulders slump slightly. “That went by faster than it should have,” he murmurs and then, after a sigh, he offers Haruka a smile. “See you tomorrow for swim?” Haruka nods, and Makoto echoes it as the bus slows. “Then just two days after that and we try for Ikuya again.”

“Ah.”

“Be safe going home, Haru. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Ah. You too.” Makoto nods, lips curved up, and then he chuckles a bit as he takes the end of the queue.

“Makoto?”

“Mm-mm,” Makoto murmurs with a shake of his head, but then he pauses, foot lightly resting on the step; turns to smile over his shoulder. “Just happy that I still get extra time with Haru this week,” he says, “Even if I have to share it.” And then he’s gone and Haruka’s left staring, feeling both filled by Makoto’s words and suddenly empty.

He needs to talk to Makoto soon. Not because it’ll change their constant rushing and scrambling for time or the fact that there _just never is enough._ Haruka realizes that, if things go how he hopes, it’ll likely make that part of things harder. No, he needs to because he thinks he’ll go crazy with the wanting and wondering if he doesn’t.


	11. Chapter 11

Swimming with Makoto has never been a chore. _Never._ Not even during those days when Makoto had been so afraid of Haruka’s beloved water that he’d have nightmares and had had to be coaxed back into it. But between Haruka’s realized feelings for his best friend and the scarcity of time together, it’s become just a little bit harder.

Haruka’s always turned to the water to realize, sort, and either accept or set free his emotions. It’s why, in his absolute hardest times—his grandmother’s death, that race with Rin in middle school, his fight with Makoto—he’d completely avoided it at first. His emotions had been too close and too raw, and it hadn’t been safe for him. But he can’t exactly avoid it now. Makoto would want to know why, and what would he tell him?

The truth, Haruka supposes, but he’d really like to have more than forty-five minutes’ time in a busy aquaplex to have _that_ particular discussion. Besides, this isn’t the same sort of circumstance at all. He’s not broken like he had been during those times; has no feelings to hide from. But the want for more of Makoto that’s been plaguing him _since they’ve_ _moved_ has only gotten worse with the realization that he's in love with his best friend and his conscious appreciation of Makoto’s extreme attractiveness, never mind Haruka's propensity to daydream about his… fixations. In a way, Haruka supposes that it _is_ better than when he hadn’t figured out what all the weirdness had been about, but he’s really just traded one problem for another. Because he refuses to give up what precious little time he has with Makoto in the water to avoid having to cope with his want.

Haruka’s face heats when he recalls the discomfort he’d had to deal with after he and Makoto had changed two days ago, because he was _not_ going to use Makoto like that, never mind in a public place. He’s never put thought into anything sexual beyond taking care of the occasional physiological need, and it’s embarrassing. It's just Makoto, for goodness' sake. It's been a fair while, but they'd bathed and slept together for years, have showered together and seen glimpses of each other in myriad stages of undress more times than Haruka can count. And it’s certainly not the first time he’s seen the water sluice so enticingly down Makoto’s back or chest or felt the warm strength of his hand. Then again, Makoto’s always held his interest and his heart like no other, for _years_ before Haruka had realized that his feelings toward his best friend had shifted to something more. So, Haruka supposes, this is just part of accepting that. He misses Makoto, wants more time with him, knows he’s in love with him, so it’s only natural that the longing from before is shifting to something more, too.

Right?

Haruka huffs softly, impatiently, as he slips his hands into his pockets. Maybe they’ll find Ikuya right away instead of spending all afternoon at it. But then, if they do, he can’t imagine that talking and clearing the air will take any _less_ time. And, as badly as he wants time to talk to Makoto alone, he definitely doesn’t want Ikuya to blow them off; to ignore them and walk away like he had the night of the welcome tournament. Haruka’s jaw tenses slightly. That still hurts him.

“Haru! Oi!” Haruka looks up at the drawn-out call; sees Asahi and Makoto hurrying toward him. They must have met at the bus station, Haruka thinks; they both live in the same direction away from him. Makoto’s dressed casually; khakis, a brown tee-shirt beneath a bright yellow-green hoodie, not tight but still emphasizing his broadness and height as well as his eyes and coloring. He smiles at Haruka as he greets him, but Haruka can sense the seriousness beneath, and he hopes even more that they find Ikuya and some resolution.

Haruka suggests they start at the aquaplex, mostly because it’s where _he_ would be even on a day off, but also to see if Kisumi’s information had been valid. Nobody’s there, and his deliberately deadpan expression of surprise that Kisumi had been right riles Asahi, as he’d figured it would. Payback for having teased him about Makoto a few days back, he thinks in satisfaction. They hit a brief snag when it comes to light that Kisumi’s intel only ran as far as the Shimogami team’s time at the pool, but when they come across one of Ikuya’s teammates by chance in their wanderings, it feels even more like they finally will be able to talk with Ikuya.

But that’s where their luck runs out.

Somehow, that Hiyori guy that had been with Ikuya the evening after the welcome tournament finds them while they’re outside of the academic building Ikuya was supposed to have been in. He speaks politely enough, and all in defense of Ikuya’s time, but there’s an undercurrent to his words, and Haruka can’t bring himself to trust the guy even as they agree to wait until Ikuya’s done training to speak with him.

“Haru-chan?” Haruka glances up, sees that Makoto had adjusted his pace to match his own after a frustrated Asahi had stalked ahead, sees the concern and question in Makoto’s eyes. It shifts to an understanding after a moment, and Makoto offers a slight smile. “Something about that boy bothers me, too,” he says quietly. “I can’t fault him his words, or his concern about Ikuya; he’s polite enough, and I know how it feels—” Makoto abruptly cuts himself off and Haruka glances up at him, his head tilting slightly when he notes the pink that’s crept into Makoto’s cheek and ear.

“How it feels…” he echoes after another moment of Makoto’s silence.

“How it feels to want to protect someone,” Makoto finishes, gaze straight ahead, color deepening. “But there’s something beneath it… something more that I just…”

“Can’t trust?” Haruka has to clear his throat to get his voice to work after Makoto’s confession, but he leaves that alone. He can tell it’s what Makoto prefers by how he’d rushed to finish his thought. But he can't help but think about it. Haruka knows that, to anyone outside of the two of them, Haruka seems the protector; the one that Makoto’s always ducking behind or clinging to. But Makoto has his own ways of protecting Haruka; quieter, more subtle ways, save for the times when Makoto’s had to save Haruka from himself, has _had_ to be obvious and loud. Does Makoto not realize, Haruka wonders, or had he meant something beyond how he’s always done?

“Mm,” Makoto agrees regarding Ikuya's friend. “Something tells me that, if we’re going to have any success with Ikuya at all, we need to speak to him when… Hiyori?” Haruka nods his confirmation and Makoto echoes it. “Hiyori isn’t around.”

“Ah.” Haruka’s brow furrows slightly as his mind goes back to that night again, how—even before Hiyori had shown up—Ikuya had been reluctant to speak to him. But it hadn’t been until that guy had come that Ikuya had actually turned away…

“We’ll get to him, Haru. And if you try again to apologize and explain, _without_ anyone else interfering, and Ikuya treats you the same as before, then that’s his loss and problem, Haru-chan. Not yours.”

Makoto’s voice is firm this time, resolute, and Haruka glances up at him again. His heart skips when he sees the determination etched in his face, it making Makoto look even more manly, he thinks, than he had when he’d tried on his suit. That now-familiar flip ripples through him, but he feels himself relax some as well as he quietly hums his response. With Makoto looking and sounding as he is, Haruka can’t help but believe him, rest comfortably in Makoto’s confidence and let his worry go.

Asahi is waiting for them up at the next crosswalk and there’s a map; they have time to kill, but not enough to make it worth leaving the campus, so they decide to catch lunch at the university’s cafeteria. Their conversation turns to their task at hand once they’ve sat and started to eat, but they barely have gotten started, it seems, when that strange man from the welcome tournament interrupts them. Their conversation is brief, but bizarre, and it leaves Haruka unsettled. The fact that the man so clearly detested mackerel aside, he can’t figure out for the life of him why he would have interjected himself simply to recommend a different dish.

At Makoto’s suggestion, they head back to the Shimogami aquaplex a little earlier than they’d been told to. Haruka has never cared for confrontation or waiting either one; while he wants to talk to Ikuya, he’s eager to be done with it, too, and he figures that Makoto has likely picked up on his restlessness. The pool is empty when they get there, but Ikuya’s teammate is waiting, and when it seems as if he and Asahi are going to get into it again, Haruka steps forward to put a quick end to it. With everything that’s already happened today, not to mention every other stressor he’s dealing with, he _definitely_ doesn’t have the patience for that.

“We waited, like we promised,” he says evenly. “Let us see Ikuya.”

The guy tells them that Ikuya left, that he hadn’t been feeling well. Haruka doesn’t know if he’s lying or not, but his tone and stance only furthers Haruka’s feeling of distrust. Before he can even respond, however, Asahi’s jumped into it again, and Haruka mentally sighs. He understands Asahi’s passion, but his hotheadedness and high energy is beginning to wear on him today, and he’s fond of Asahi. He’s certain this stranger isn’t going to tolerate much of it.

Makoto tries to keep the situation from escalating, but Hiyori—Tono, he finally introduces himself—is pushing all of Asahi’s buttons, getting Asahi fired up even more. Fingers curling inward as his tension mounts, Haruka tries again to cut to the chase and get through to Tono why, exactly, they want to see Ikuya. Discomfort prickles through him as he tells this stranger of the promise that he’d made to Ikuya when they’d been kids, but he pushes through it. He even manages to hold Tono’s gaze, but he’s put off, told again that he’s being a nuisance.

That pushes Asahi into another verbal spar and, this time, it escalates to the point where Haruka has to physically stop Asahi from going for Tono. Tono seems to feed off the situation, continues with his goading until Asahi grabs Haruka to push around him, and Haruka is _done._ It’s obvious that they’re getting nowhere with words, so he tosses out what, to him, is an even better solution:

“Why don’t we race then?”

Because there’s no room for misrepresentation or misinterpretation in the water. Tono’s strokes, his energy and intent, the water will communicate them clearly. And, if Tono is a true swimmer, he’ll pick up on Haruka’s in turn.

Makoto’s shock is palpable even without the gasp of his name but, for now, Haruka ignores it, ignores the weight of his stare and of Asahi’s surprised one. Right now, he just wants Tono to shut up and give his answer, though Haruka is already put off by the knowledge that the guy's looking at this like some playground fight with the right to be Ikuya’s friend on the line. It’s immature and not what he’d meant by it at all.

Tono tells him then that his main is back but that he _can_ swim free if Haruka wants to race. _Finally,_ Haruka thinks, but before he can accept and _just be done with it_ —

“If you want to swim back, then _I’ll_ race you.”

Haruka’s eyes go wide and he gasps Makoto’s name when he finds himself staring at his best friend's back, all 184 centimeters of him drawn up and shoulders squared to intimidate as he stands between Haruka and Tono.

_I know how it feels to want to protect someone._

“Don’t worry about this, Haru. I’ll take care of it.”


	12. Chapter 12

The trip back to _Marron_ is a quiet one. Even Asahi seems to have little to say—or he just hasn’t recovered from the surprise of it all. Haruka knows _he’s_ still in a bit of disbelief on how it had all played out.

It isn’t until they’re seated that Asahi breaks the silence, asking Makoto if he’s sure he’s alright with things. Asahi’s tone suggests he’s asking if Makoto is alright, _period_ , but Makoto’s smile and gaze are steady as he nods. “I’m looking forward to a competitive swim. It’s been a while.”

Makoto’s voice is steady, too, with a slight lilt at the end that speaks of his true anticipation. Makoto isn’t a liar, and Haruka can tell that he isn’t hiding a thing, but it’s the why beneath that has him feeling… god, he doesn’t know what. Makoto’s words of protecting someone keep echoing through his head; something about that particular exchange sends a thrill of warmth through him, makes him love Makoto even more, but part of him is irritated, too. Haruka doesn’t _need_ protecting, not in the water, _ever_ , and especially not from a challenge he himself had thrown. Even if he _hadn’t_ known at the time that Hiyori’s strongest stroke was back. He’d only seen him in the 50-meter free at the welcome tournament; they’d missed part of the backstroke heats when they’d been looking for Ikuya.

Akane comes up with their coffees and asks if she can watch Makoto’s race. Haruka’s brows arch. He’s surprised that she’d overheard their conversation from where she’d been, but then Kisumi rushes in, breathlessly asks Makoto the same thing, and Haruka turns an incredulous look to Asahi. Makoto gapes and then laughs when Kisumi declares it important enough to skip club for, and Asahi finally catches Haruka’s look as the other two banter back and forth. “What?”

“How many people did you text?”

Asahi doesn’t even have the grace to look sheepish; he just shrugs. “Just nee-chan and Kisumi. I knew they’d want to know. Besides, it’s a pretty cool thing Makoto’s doing, ‘specially since he’s not done an actual race in almost a year, don’t you think?”

“Asahi! It’s not!” Makoto protests, tuning in to their conversation as Kisumi finally stops pestering him and sits. “I just want to do what I can to help Ikuya. And maybe putting myself out there after so long will show Tono-kun how serious we are about making amends.”

That satisfies Asahi; Kisumi and Akane, too, it seems, but Haruka’s not 100% sold. Makoto’s words back then, his stance, the energy he’d radiated, the assurance spoken directly to _him_ ; there’s more to it than what Makoto’s sharing with the others. Unless, of course, Haruka’s own feelings and hopes are slanting his judgement, and he has to physically refrain from scowling, from tugging his fingers through his fringe in his sudden frustration.

Tonight. He’s talking to Makoto tonight. Because he _just can’t take it anymore._

They sit around _Marron_ for another hour before they unanimously decide it’s time to leave. Saturday means a lighter day, but there are obligations just the same, for all of them. Haruka can’t say he’s sorry. It’s been a long day; beyond that, he’s ready to put this conversation with Makoto behind him.

Makoto knows something’s up; Haruka has felt his gaze on him more than once while they’d eaten and talked. Haruka tries to ease his worry by doing his best to take part in the meal and conversation as he normally would, but, when they step out the door, the silence is almost painfully awkward, reminiscent of those first few moments on the overlook on _Obon_ before their world had shattered into pieces.

“Haru?” Makoto’s voice is small, uncertain, and Haruka’s jaw tenses slightly. _What’s wrong? Are you mad at me? I’m sorry!_ So much in one word, just from the tone, and Haruka wants to assure him, but he just doesn’t know how, in the middle of a sidewalk crammed with people, without offering a pat _it’s fine_ when Makoto knows damned well it’s not—even if Makoto _thinks_ it’s not for all the wrong reasons.

“Let me come to your place?” he decides on, because it’s better than not saying anything and letting Makoto continue to eat away at himself. At least this way, Makoto knows he won’t be left wondering for long.

“Mm.” Some of the tension between them fades and Haruka knows that he’d made the right decision.

Nothing more is said between them on the fairly short trip from _Marron_ to Makoto’s, but Haruka swears he sees the wheels inside Makoto’s head turning as they head up the stairs, knows that he’s just waiting until they’re in the privacy of his apartment from the way his expression settles as he unlocks the door. Makoto draws a quiet breath as he ushers Haruka inside and Haruka’s heart races slightly; he can’t let Makoto start because he _knows_ an apology is coming even though Makoto has _no clue_ what’s truly wrong, and Haruka doesn’t want to go into this conversation irritated on top of worked up from deciding to have it.

“Ha—”

“Makoto, do you love me?” Haruka cuts in before Makoto can finish. Makoto’s eyes go wide as his entire being freezes, right down to the way his lips had formed around the first part of his name. “And I don’t mean just _love_ ,” he continues, quickly blocking that avenue of escape. “I know you do. But are you _in love_ with me?”

Haruka watches the color drain from, and then slowly creep back into, Makoto’s face. “Haru,” he mutters, and then he blinks, finally breaking his shocked stare, and looks away. He’s quiet for a long moment and Haruka has to hold back an impatient noise, because he has no clue what these tells are, not in _this_ conversation. “Yes, Haru,” Makoto finally says after drawing a slow breath and turning his gaze back, and Haru finally feels like he _can_ breathe again. “I’m _in_ love with you. But that’s not why I took Tono-kun’s challenge.”

Haruka’s eyes go wide and he parts his lips to tell Makoto that’s not why he’d asked at _all_ —at least, not mostly—but Makoto pushes on before he can. “I know you could have easily won it,” he says gently, intuitively knowing what Haruka had been put out about. “You do swim differently when your mind is clouded or cluttered, but you never swim better than when you’re swimming for a friend. What I said about why I stepped forward is true; I hope that putting myself out there after not racing for so long helps Tono-kun see how serious we are about making amends. But I also didn’t want him to have any excuse to renege on the deal when you did beat him.”

Haruka’s head tilts slightly, this curiosity briefly taking precedence over his other. “What do you mean?”

Makoto smiles a bit. “You heard him. Free isn’t his main stroke. And I wasn’t going to let him put you through all of that only to have him declare at the end that your win didn’t count because the race wasn’t fair. This way, he’ll have nothing to complain about; nothing to try and hang over our heads.”

“Oh.” Haruka thinks about that for a moment, decides that—from the way that guy has been so far—it’s as likely he would go back on his word as he wouldn’t, so he nods and then, after worrying his lower lip, glances up at Makoto again. “And the other?”

“Me being in love with you?”

“Ah.”

“What about it?” 

Haruka’s head snaps back up; Makoto’s blushing again, but his gaze is steady. “You’ve known,” he breathes after studying him for a second, and Makoto gives a small smile and nod.

“Mm.”

“How long?” Haruka demands after his mouth works silently for a moment. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’ve loved Haru forever,” Makoto replies, but then he smiles a bit, soft and shy, and his gaze falls away as he leans against the wall of his genkan. “But I knew I was _in_ love with you after you left for Australia. I was a wreck,” Makoto says with a slightly self-depreciating laugh and he runs his fingers through his bangs and then drops his hand again. “Dad came to my room after school that first day to make sure I was okay, and I just… lost it. He didn’t say anything, just let me get it out, then he told me a story about him and mom that I’d not heard before—didn’t think that was possible,” he interjected wryly, but Haruka can’t even smile, his heart is twisted so hard. He’s known all along that their fight had been as hard on Makoto as it had been on him, but to actually hear about it tears him up all over again. 

“They were in college,” Makoto continues. “They’d been meeting as study partners for a while, and Dad knew they liked each other; wondered if it could be more. He was even shyer than me, he told me.” Makoto’s lips curve up softly. “Didn’t know how to even go about finding out, but she kept asking him to meet her, so he kept saying yes, thinking maybe time would tell. It got to be exam time, and he pushed himself too hard and got sick—”

“God, you’re just like him,” Haruka mutters before he can catch it, and Makoto laughs, lightly scratches his cheek.

“Mm. Anyway,” he continues as his hand drops again, “He ended up missing their study date and they didn’t have cell phones; he tried her dorm phone but she wasn’t there, so he went to look for her. Didn’t see her until after Mom saw him, talking to a girl he’d stopped to ask if she knew her.” 

Haruka hisses softly in sympathy and Makoto nods. “Yeah. Dad ran after her, tried to tell her it wasn’t what it had looked like, but between the missed date and then that… It took a week before she’d even talk to him again,” Makoto says with a slight smile after trailing off. “Dad was miserable. All he could think of was her pain and how he’d give anything to see her happy again, and that’s when he knew. _When you feel their happiness and hurt more deeply than your own, you can’t call it anything else **but** love,_ he said. And that’s when I knew that I was _in_ love with Haru, too,” he finishes softly. “As for why I didn’t tell you, there was just _so_ much going on with us both, between nationals, and then fixing things, and then exams… neither of us needed one more thing, so it was just easier to keep to myself. But once we were in Tokyo, I’d hoped…” Makoto trails off again but doesn’t pick back up; Haruka can see that he’s struggling, sees embarrassment in the color that’s been highlighting his cheeks since Haruka had put him on the spot.

“Hoped what?” Haruka finally asks, pushing when he normally wouldn’t, because the way his chest feels, how his heart is beating, he knows that he _needs Makoto to continue._

“I’d hoped that, once we were here and away from everything we knew, that we’d seen day to day, that… that maybe you’d see me differently, too. Something more than just the boy that’s your best friend and always needing your help and protection.”

Haruka can only stand there at first. There is _so_ much rushing through him right now and he doesn’t think, no, he _knows_ that he’s never felt so may emotions at once; elation and anticipation and relief and fear because Makoto loves him back and myriad new unknowns and firsts now lay before them, but there’s also affection and exasperation, and a bit of brokenness, too, over how Makoto, _his_ Makoto, so frequently thinks that how he is isn’t enough or anything special; how he only sees himself as painfully ordinary.

Every instance where Makoto has seemed odd or a little off since they’d come to Tokyo makes sense now; how he’d been at that stupid Sumo contest that seemed a lifetime ago. How he’d been when he’d needed Haruka’s help to unpack and organize. The expression he’d seen the night they’d had bubble tea. The way he’d been with Tono earlier. He gets it now, but it’s all been so unnecessary because Makoto is Makoto and perfect exactly how he is.

“Idiot Makoto,” Haruka murmurs; Makoto’s breath catches, but he holds whatever words had come when Haruka lifts his head and holds his eyes. “It’s my best friend, the boy who always needs me, who I always need, that I fell in love with. That I’ve been missing so much since we came to Tokyo that it hurts.”

“Haru!” Makoto breathes his name like he can’t believe it, then swallows, a slightly shaky smile raising his lips. “You—you’re in love with me, too?”

“Ah. I didn’t know.” Haruka pushes himself to say, because Makoto deserves his full honesty. “For a while, I wasn’t sure what it was. I thought maybe it was just the differences and distance, and I didn’t want anything to change because so much already has.”

“But now?” Makoto prods softly when Haruka briefly stalls out.

“Now I know. I love Makoto too. I’ve known... something, for a while now,” he shares, wanting Makoto to know that it isn’t something he’s just decided because of _Makoto’s_ confession, “but I couldn’t figure it out. And life’s just been so busy and stressful and _different_ that every time I _tried_ to figure it out _everything_ came jumbled in. Then that night you were late meeting Asahi and me, we talked, and—”

“You talked to Asahi?” Makoto blurts out, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, and Haruka makes a soft tsking sound. 

“Not on purpose! It just kind of happened after he told me about him and Kisumi. But that’s when I knew. _Ahh, it’s love I’m feeling. For Makoto. I’m in love with him_.”

“Haru.” Still embarrassed, Haruka keeps his gaze averted, but then he feels Makoto’s hand on his own. His heart beats faster when, this time, Makoto interlaces their fingers together instead of just grasping his palm. He swallows softly, looks up, sees the pink in Makoto’s cheeks, sees _everything_ in his eyes, sees the way they drift down to his lips then back up, how the pink creeps into Makoto’s ears at the unspoken question. Heart pounding now, Haruka gives the subtlest of nods, steps forward, tilts his head and, after breathing his name again as if in thanks, Makoto closes that last bit of distance and brings their mouths together.


	13. Chapter 13

The kiss is awkward. They both just sort of stand there, lips touching, neither of them knowing what to do, but then Haruka feels the slight tremble to Makoto’s mouth and he laces their other hands together with a gentle squeeze. Makoto pulls away, but only slightly, and just long enough to take a quiet, calming breath. He smiles his thanks, then kisses Haruka again.

Haruka almost has to laugh—they’re at the same impasse as before—but it’s as assuring as it is ridiculous, and he won’t lie and say he doesn’t feel some excitement at the thought of learning this new turn to their path together. And then Makoto’s mouth is reacting to the slight quirk in his lips, the soft plumpness shifting to accommodate it, and _oh._ Haruka’s hands tighten harder for a second before he frees one and moves it to lightly grip Makoto’s shoulder as he’s nearly swept away by the sensation of Makoto’s lips so gently moving against his own.

Before Haruka can react further, Makoto pulls away, a bit farther than he had before. There’s worry in his eyes this time as he murmurs Haruka’s name; Haruka colors slightly and shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he assures, and then, “It was good. I liked it.”

Makoto grins, shy and sweet, leans down to bring their foreheads together, and it’s such an intimate thing that Haruka’s heart aches with it. “Me too. I want to do it again,” he admits, eyes flickering down to Haruka’s lips before returning to Haruka’s gaze.

“Me too.”

“I’m glad.” Haru swallows softly as Makoto’s free hand comes to rest at his waist. “Because I never want to stop kissing Haru.”

Haruka’s eyes go wide as his cheeks warm, but then, as Makoto’s mouth nears, he suddenly huffs a laugh. He can’t help it. Makoto pulls back, surprised, and Haruka laughs again, an actual one this time, Makoto’s expression is that priceless. “Haru?”

“It’s nothing.” He rolls his eyes lightly when he sees Makoto’s lips start to curve down into a little pout. “It’s just, you’re always nagging me about _my_ addictions. Maybe now you won’t so much since you’ve got one of your own.”

Makoto blinks and then laughs himself, dropping his hand. Haruka does too and steps back, the mood broken. “Doubtful,” Makoto retorts playfully, and it’s Haruka’s turn to look surprised. “I have a much better handle on mine. I mean, I’ve been addicted to Haru for forever, and you’re just now finding out, right?”

Haruka gapes and he can feel his neck and ears flush too, which _never_ happens. “I changed my mind,” he declares brusquely as he sharply turns away, resolutely ignoring the part of him that is utterly charmed by how absolutely _pleased_ Makoto looks for his wittiness. “I don’t care to kiss idiot Makoto again.” 

“Haru! Ahh, Haru, don’t be like that,” Makoto pleads, but there’s a giddy amusement beneath it, and Haruka’s lips twitch because he feels it, too, beneath his show of peevishness. Makoto hmphs softly when Haruka holds out, and he crosses his arms in front of him. “I know you don’t mean it.”

“Oh, I don’t, huh?”

“No!”

Haruka looks at him, brow arched. “And how do you figure that?”

“Because you love me.” And Makoto sounds so blissed as he speaks, looks so beautiful with the way the color creeps back into his cheeks and the light into his eyes that Haruka can’t help but relent.

“Ah,” he murmurs, stepping forward again, his own cheeks warming further as he brings his hands to Makoto’s shoulders and lightly runs them down his biceps to encourage his arms back down. “I do.” He takes another slight step into the space that he’s created and pushes up to bring his mouth to Makoto’s.

“I love you, too,” Makoto breathes and then he kisses him. Their lips brush, then press, then brush again; Haruka’s hands tighten against Makoto’s arms and, as they slide up to his shoulders again, he tips his head just a little further, pressing harder as his left hand makes its way to Makoto’s hair. Makoto’s breath hitches softly and then his arms come around Haruka, bringing him almost flush. Heart speeding, Haruka cups the back of Makoto’s head and tentatively brings the tip of his tongue to Makoto’s lower lip.

Makoto’s breath catches again, a soft sound with it this time; his hands shift back to Haruka’s hips, holding on as he opens his mouth to him. Warmth rushes through Haruka with Makoto’s show of trust, with the weight and warmth of those large, familiar hands about his waist. It grounds him as much as it excites him, makes him bold, makes him want to give Makoto _everything._ Carding his fingers through Makoto’s hair, he slides his tongue in, and everything around him vanishes to a warm, static buzz as he his world pinpoints down to texture and taste, wetness and heat.

Haruka doesn’t know if he’s kissing Makoto right but, from the sounds that Makoto drops onto his tongue as he licks into him, it must feel good regardless, and that’s what matters to him. Each noise he gives jolts through Haruka’s body to ignite his imagination, taking him back to the thoughts that had left his face hot as he’d laid in bed the nights shortly after realizing the turn his feelings had taken. It’s far too much, far too soon, and he pushes them away with the knowledge of _some day,_ and eases back to whisper, “Makoto, kiss me, too.”

An odd sense of pride hazily makes itself known when Makoto can’t even manage a breath of Haruka’s name in response. Haruka gets a nod, nothing else, and then Makoto’s lips are on his, tongue wet and hot and eager in his mouth, no sign of the shy hesitance from a few moments before. It takes Haruka a second or two to realize that the sounds he hears now aren’t Makoto’s alone. His ears burn again with it, but he can’t hold them back, either; doesn’t really want to. There isn’t anything _to_ hold back between them anymore.

The next time Makoto strokes over his tongue, Haruka lifts his slightly, feels Makoto shiver at the light drag along the bottom of his own. Makoto’s explorations slow and their tongues twine together, adding a new level of intimacy to their kiss; lightheaded almost, Haruka leans into Makoto and an arm comes back around his waist, holding him close as they finally part, both of them breathing heavily as Makoto rests his forehead against Haruka’s again.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Makoto murmurs once he’s caught his breath, his smile warm and eyes slightly awestruck as his fingers lightly, almost reverently, touch Haruka’s cheek. “I can’t believe this is real.” He blinks then, fingers pausing in their caress. “I mean, I know _you_ are, but—”

Haruka silences him with a finger to his lips, his own slightly curved upward. “It’s fine. I know what you meant.” As he lowers his hand, he thinks about Makoto’s words, about what he himself has felt past several weeks. He tries to imagine nearly a year of the longing and waiting, the wondering, and his heart clenches softly. It’s no wonder Makoto’s in such a daze, he thinks as he twines their fingers together again, and he leans up to press a gentle kiss to Makoto’s lips before stepping back.

“Haru?”

“I’m tired of standing in the genkan,” he offers in explanation as he drops Makoto’s hand to take off his shoes. Which is true, but only part of it; he just doesn’t know how to say _I want to stay and keep kissing you until you forget the time you were left to wonder._ He’s embarrassed enough by the thought of it. 

“Don’t you have to go?” Hope and concern both show in Makoto’s eyes as he takes off his shoes as well.

“Not tonight,” Haruka takes Makoto’s hand again once they’re finished and lightly tugs, and whatever Makoto sees in his eyes must satisfy any further questions, because he just squeezes his hand and follows him through to the main room.

Years of sudden overnights at one home or the other created habits that have followed them to Tokyo. Haruka has what he needs at Makoto’s just as Makoto does at Haruka’s and they share soap and shampoo without thought, so when Makoto hovers almost worriedly by the bathroom door after Haruka’s retrieved his things—because _of course_ Makoto persists that Haruka goes first—Haruka looks at him in question.

“I just—things are different now, right?” Makoto begins, fingers worrying the hem of his tee-shirt, brow furrowed as he tries to collect his thoughts into words. “Being in love and together now, I mean.”

Haruka’s brow furrows as well. He sets his things into the basket and he takes a step; gently but insistently untangles Makoto’s hand from his shirt so he can take it again. “We are,” he confirms, and Makoto smiles, but not the sort that Haruka had expected. “Makoto?”

Makoto blushes, lips curving further. “Haru is sweet,” he murmurs, and he dips his head to press a light kiss to his lips. “But I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Then what?” Haruka asks, ignoring the way the compliment and kiss had made his own face warm again.

“… I don’t know what to do,” Makoto confesses with a slightly awkward laugh, and Haruka feels that warmth flood through his body, feels an anxious anticipation flutter through his gut, but then, “Do I get the futon out, or is it still okay if we share like we did last time? And do I… can I call you my boyfriend now when people ask? Or do you want to keep it between us? Oh, and Asahi; I know you said he knows. I mean, how you feel about me, at least.”

“Makoto,” Haruka cuts in when he sees that Makoto has drawn another breath to continue his stream of consciousness, and he mentally chides himself for the direction his thoughts had initially gone, how that anxiety had twisted through him. He should have known better, really. They know each other so well and love each other so much, but they’re still who they are in the end; Makoto shy and slightly awkward and Haruka nervous about so much change. Things will happen, but on their own time, as always, and he suddenly knows how to assure his best friend.

“I don’t mind if you tell people we’re together or that you have a boyfriend. And we can tell our family and friends when we’re ready. As for us, we’re still us,” he says, tipping his head up so that Makoto can ground himself in his eyes. “That _hasn’t_ changed. I think… I think that, as long as we keep _being_ us, Makoto and Haru, what’s new will work its way in when and how it’s meant to.”

“Haru.” Makoto squeezes his hand and draws him close enough to bring their foreheads together again. “You’re so wise,” he murmurs, smile and expression relaxed now. “Thank you, Haru.”

“Ah.” He rests there for a moment longer and then straightens and steps back. “We’ll learn our way through it together, Makoto. Just like always.”

“Mm.” Makoto squeezes his hand a final time and then lets him go. Haruka steps away and starts the water, but when he turns to close the door, he sees Makoto still there, watching him with a soft, almost dreamy smile. “Remember the night I got back from Iwatobi and I said I should have gone home instead?” he begins when Haruka arches a brow in a silent _what now._ Haruka nods, shucking off his hoodie and letting it fall to the floor. “I was just thinking that, honestly, I did go straight home, ‘cause Haru-chan _is_ home; where I feel the most belonged and most safe.”

Haruka’s breath catches for how hard his heart skips, and he’s so overwhelmed by the beauty of Makoto’s words and what they do to him that he can’t even bring himself to look at his best friend. “No ‘ _chan’,_ ” he does manage, and Makoto just softly laughs before pushing away from the wall, but before he can take a step, Haruka’s grabbed him around the wrist. “Makoto is for me, too. Home.” And it’s clumsy and stilted, but from the way Makoto shifts the arm he has a hold on so that he can take Haruka’s hand instead and pull him close again, Haruka knows he doesn’t care, that he’s heard only the sentiment and not the awkwardness, as always.


	14. Chapter 14

Makoto is at his desk on his laptop when Haruka comes out of the bath. The tip of his ear is pink, and there’s a soft color beneath his glasses, but there _isn’t_ the futon. Haruka’s heart warms for how cute Makoto is, all shy and blushing, and then _his_ face heats for how readily the thought had come. He supposes it’s another thing he’ll have to get used to, things like this randomly floating through his head now that it’s alright for him to think them.

“Be right out,” Makoto promises after he’s shut down his computer and has grabbed his things. Haruka nods, watches him go down the small corridor, then turns the lights out save for the one closest to the bed before getting in. His heart flutters in his chest several minutes later when he hears the bathroom door slide open, and he chides himself for it, because isn’t he the one that had said all they had to do was keep being them? Well they’ve shared a bed off and on for years, so it’s nothing to be worked up about this time either, right?

And then Makoto gets into bed, warm and clean and smelling of the same soap that Haruka does, and he whispers a soft apology when he lightly pushes against him as he shifts to shut off the light, and Haruka’s stomach flutters again, because it _is_ different this time. This time, if he wants to, he can shift just a bit closer until he’s lightly pressed against Makoto’s side and, if he’s brave enough, he can let his arm rest over Makoto’s midriff. Haruka decides he is, so he does, and when Makoto briefly tenses, then relaxes, he moves just a bit closer still so that he can lean up and softly ask, “Okay?”

“Mm,” Makoto murmurs back, and he turns his head just a bit, and Haruka’s heart flutters again at the happiness and love he sees gleaming in Makoto’s eyes. His own close when Makoto brings a hand up to lightly touch his face, and his fingers lightly grasp Makoto’s tee shirt when Makoto’s lips find his a moment later. It’s a brief kiss, chaste, but it’s the perfect prelude to the soft, “Goodnight, Haru-chan,” murmured against them before Makoko pulls back, and so sweet that Haruka can’t be bothered to chastise him for the nickname.

The only thing Haruka _hadn’t_ liked about it was how little time he’d had to enjoy laying tangled with Makoto the next morning before he’d had to make himself get up and start the day.

Just over a week has passed and they haven’t seen each other any more than they had before they’d confessed their feelings. As Haruka had expected, the change in their relationship does make it a little harder, but they make up for it how they can, sitting and walking a bit closer together, discreetly holding hands when they can; they’ve even managed a goodbye kiss or two, though they’re a double-edged sword, Haruka thinks. He’s glad for them, will never turn down an opportunity for _any_ kiss from Makoto, but they make him think of Makoto’s taste and the sounds he’d made as he’d licked into his mouth, how it had felt to have Makoto’s tongue in his own.

Fine, Haruka thinks to himself with a huff as he tugs open his locker. The change in their relationship has made the scant bit of time they have together a _lot_ harder. But there’s not a lot to be done about it, so best not to dwell, especially not in a locker room about to be flooded with a dozen teammates, only one of whom knows that he has a boyfriend now. 

Haruka isn’t certain if Asahi had found out first or Kisumi, but Asahi is the first that _he_ ’d told. It had only seemed right, and besides, since he and Kisumi are who they hang around with the most, Haruka figures it wouldn’t have taken them long to realize anyway. They’ll tell family whenever they next see them in person, they’d decided, and that means Nagisa and Rei—which means holding out on telling Rin as long as they’re able.

Haruka really isn’t sure _where_ Rin falls; he means more than just _friend_ to both him and Makoto, but it’s not the same as it is with Nagisa and Rei, either. Maybe their most important person outside of each other and family, Haruka muses, but regardless, Rin can’t keep a secret worth a shit, and Haruka knows that they’d never hear the end of it if Rin found out before Nagisa... and why is this all so complicated, he wonders with a quiet sigh.

But it’s worth it. Even the bit of anxiousness that he gets whenever he thinks about speaking with his parents is. Neither he nor Makoto are worried about Makoto’s family, not with how supportive Makoto’s dad had been when Makoto had broken down. And they both figure that, since Makoto’s dad knows how Makoto feels, his mom does. Makoto hadn’t asked his dad to keep it secret, after all, and Haruka doesn’t think a couple can have the sort of relationship Makoto’s parents do if they don’t communicate with each other, about their children, especially. And, since neither his mom nor dad had treated either of them any differently after Makoto had talked to his dad, well.

Haruka isn’t as certain about his own parents, though. He knows that they’re fond of Makoto and that they love him; that they always have, even though he was borderline difficult between his introversion and his quirks. But they’ve been away for so much of his life, for so many points through it that have shaped him; he doesn’t feel as if he knows them all that well, or they him. At least, not how it is with Makoto’s parents, and isn’t that a strange thing, no matter how good of best friends you are, to feel closer to their parents than you do to your own?

Regardless, Haruka hopes that his mom and dad will accept them. Close or not, they’re still his parents. That said, the soonest he’ll find out is Obon and that’s well over a month away, so he doesn’t spend _too_ much time worrying about it. He’s got other things between then and now to spend that energy on. Besides, now that all the oddness is cleared and he isn’t caught between tensed up and thinking all the time, Tokyo and University don’t seem so overwhelming, and he wants to enjoy that a bit. They just need to get this mess with Ikuya sorted out.

Haruka’s lips press softly. He wants to say that he’s hopeful they’ll be on their way to that after tonight, but he can’t help but feel as Makoto does—that it’s just as likely that Tono will renege on their deal if Makoto wins as it is that he’ll honor it.

And then there’s Makoto to worry about.

Almost as if in response to the thought, he hears the muffled sound of Makoto’s text tone. Brow furrowing slightly, Haruka digs into his bag to pull out his phone, and then his expression eases and his lips curve up slightly.

_Hi, Haru! ^_^ So I was thinking, since we’re swimming tomorrow morning, would it be okay if I just stayed with Haru tonight?_

Haruka doesn’t know that he’s ever sent a text back as quickly as he does his _yes,_ and his smile broadens as eagerness lightly flips through his stomach. He can’t even be bothered that he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Truly, it wouldn’t make much sense for Makoto to go all the way back to his apartment after the race only to turn around and come back Haru’s way the next morning.

The locker room door opens as Haruka’s reading Makoto’s return of _Thanks, Haru! See you soon! <3_, and Asahi comes in with the handful of teammates, greets him as he goes to his locker.

“God, I hope the meeting goes quick tonight,” he grouses as he starts to change. “I mean, they’re fine most of the time, but I’m just excited today, you know?”

“About?” Haruka asks as he drops his phone back into his bag. He shuts his locker and turns to look at Asahi, who’s gaping at him slightly.

“The race, Haru! Makoto’s race!” Asahi grins, a bit maniacally. “Damn, I hope Makoto totally _spanks_ that stupid jerk.”

“Ah.” And like that, Haruka’s earlier concern is forefront again.

“ _Ah_? That’s _it?_ Haru!” Asahi stops then, tilts his head slightly, narrows his eyes. “You don’t think Makoto will win?”

“I didn’t say that,” Haruka snaps. “Makoto is _good,_ and he’s never stopped training on his own, even though he’s not swimming competitively. And I know he’s been doing extra since they agreed to this. But we both know the difference that swimming under a collegiate-level coach has made, and it’d be stupid to ignore the fact that he might not.”

Asahi just nods but then, after he tugs off his shirt, “You’re right, of course.” He shoots Haruka a quick smile. “I just really hope he does.”

“Me too,” Haruka admits, because of course he does. But Ikuya isn’t his only reason. Makoto is putting himself on the line for them all and, _out_ of them all, Makoto will feel the most like he’s let everyone down if he loses, regardless as to how well he does. “Idiot,” Haruka mutters under his breath, though he tells Asahi he hadn’t said anything when Asahi asks.

“Ne Haru,” he continues as they head toward the door, “Do you really think this guy’s gonna make good on his promise, anyway? I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” Asahi admits, and Haruka can only repeat himself as they step onto the pool deck.

“Me too.”


	15. Chapter 15

Practice goes by too quickly, as always, but the meeting not quickly enough. By the time they’ve finished, he and Asahi have to run to catch the train, and that’s even after foregoing their showers. Neither of them say much, but Haruka’s sure that Asahi’s mind is as full as his is, between the impromptu discussion about Ikuya with their teammates, Makoto’s race, and the schedule of training camps that had been handed out and discussed. Haruka’s lashes fall softly as his lips gently press. He’d known that camps would be a part of his training, and he’d figured the first would be soon, what with the intercollegiate championship races drawing nearer. He just hadn’t anticipated that there’d be so many. And in between, his time will be even more pinched as he does his best to make sure he doesn’t fall behind in any of the classes he’ll be missing.

Suddenly, the time he’s had with Makoto up until now seems like a gift.

Haruka glances over at Asahi. He’s staring absently out the window, an unusually somber look on his face. It doesn’t suit him at all, Haruka thinks, and he’s again reminded of how Kisumi had compared Asahi (and Makoto!) to the sun. Is he thinking about the extra time away from Kisumi, he wonders? After all, their relationship is new, too. Granted, it isn’t the same as it is with him and Makoto, who’ve always spent their time together and are trying to get used to being apart. But, for the first time since middle school, Asahi and Kisumi are in the same place and _can_ spend the time together. Haruka thinks it would be just as hard to give it up in their situation as it will be in his own.

“It’ll be okay,” Haruka finds himself saying, and he ignores the bit of heat in his cheeks when Asahi looks over at him in surprise. “A lot of the camps are just for a day, and the longer ones usually have at least one open race where Kisumi and Makoto can come and watch. It’s going to cut into our free time a lot, but we’ll still get to see them.”

Asahi gapes for a second, but then his features gentle. “Thanks, Haru,” Asahi says gratefully and Haruka has to look away for as awkward as he feels.

“I didn’t do anything but say what’s true,” he mumbles, and he’s grateful when the train announces their stop next as it puts a natural end to the conversation. That said, he can’t help but smile a bit to himself in satisfaction when he sees the light back in Asahi’s eyes. He knows it’s going to be hard, but at least neither he, nor Makoto, will be going at it alone in their respective lanes. He huffs softly in amusement as the door opens. He’ll never admit it aloud, but he’s actually grateful for Kisumi, because Makoto loves swimming, and Makoto loves competing, and Haruka imagines that the shift from swimmer to spectator would be much harder for his boyfriend if he had to sit in the bleachers alone.

The walk from the station to the community center is a short one. The building is fairly empty, as the evening sessions haven’t started yet. They check through to the aquaplex and, when Asahi pushes the door open from the locker room after they’ve changed shoes, Haruka’s heart jumps as he hears Makoto’s strokes cutting through the water, the splashes echoing off the walls. He’d recognize them anywhere and, after grabbing Makoto’s towel from his bag on the bench, he follows Asahi out, his gaze going directly to the pool. In the back of his mind, he knows Kisumi’s there and that Asahi’s talking to him, but his entire focus is on Makoto and how he takes that last stroke and then taps at the edge of the pool. Haruka’s chest burns with pride. Makoto looks every bit as good as he had when they’d been practicing under Sasabe daily, and if Tono thinks he’s going to walk away with an easy win, he’s in for a surprise, Haruka thinks.

And then Makoto’s on the ladder, pulling himself out of the water, and Haruka’s brain briefly stops altogether.

When they swim together, Makoto’s always out of the water first, because Haruka leaves it until the last possible second. Now he’s kind of regretting it because, while he loves the water and he loves the feel of Makoto’s hand, of his strength, pulling him up, it’s a crime against himself that he’s missed _this_ view for so long. Everything from Makoto’s grip on the bars to the motion itself shows off how ridiculously, _perfectly_ stacked Makoto is. Shoulders, arms, hands, chest, abdomen, they all bunch and flex and move fluidly together to bring him up and out, and _mine_ flits through Haruka’s mind so quickly that the heat in his cheeks is a delayed reaction to it. Not that the thought itself is new; he’s been possessive of Makoto for ages. Just… on a much more generalized and innocent level.

Somehow Haruka manages to shake himself out of the treacherous line of thought in time to take Makoto his towel without arousing anyone’s curiosity. But then Makoto gives him a look after he’s dried his face and has brought the towel up to his hair; soft, determined, assuring and just for him. _I’m good,_ it says. _It’ll be okay. I’ve got this._ And Haruka’s heart goes just a bit haywire again.

God, he loves him _so_ much.

Makoto’s head tilts slightly in question, likely due to the color Haruka can feel heating his face again. It’s embarrassing, the thoughts he keeps having and his lack of control over them, and he wonders if they’ll stop over time, or if he’ll at least get used to them. But Kisumi speaks up then, asking about the sense of this seemingly childish throwdown, and the two of them are drawn out of the moment.

“That’s part of why I’m doing this,” Makoto shares after a soft laugh when Kisumi says he doesn’t get it. “Maybe after swimming with him, I’ll understand where Tono-kun is coming from a little more.”

Pride wends its way through Haruka as he listens, and he can’t take his eyes away. Makoto’s thoughts are the same as Haruka’s had been when _he’d_ offered the race to Tono, though Haruka had never spoken them to Makoto, and he has no words for how it makes him feel whenever he’s reminded that their bond is as strong as ever, despite the time apart. But it also makes him proud how the water recognizes Makoto even still. If it didn’t accept him, it wouldn’t communicate such things to him, after all.

“I still don’t get it,” Kisumi admits with a slight smile, and Asahi grins at him a bit.

“Swimming together helps us understand each other,” he explains, and there really isn’t a way to put it more simply than that.

“Exactly,” Haruka says with a nod, which throws Kisumi into a bit of a pout over feeling left out. But before he can wind it up too much, they’re interrupted by one of the kids who’d just come in through the locker room for a class, and Haruka’s eyes widen slightly when he realizes that it’s Misaki, the boy that he and Makoto had met when they’d come for Haruka’s apartment in the spring. He doesn’t stay long, just enough for him and Makoto to exchange greetings, really, and then he runs off as Makoto tells Asahi and Kisumi a little about him.

Something must catch Makoto’s eye as he talks, because he wanders away from the edge of the pool to the benches at the spectator entrance. They follow, and after a moment, Haruka realizes he’d seen an advertisement. “Apparently they’re still looking for another coach,” he murmurs once Makoto’s paused.

Makoto nods slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly; after a moment, Haruka looks at the poster again. It’d be a good distraction for Makoto, he thinks, having easily read Makoto’s contemplation. It’s only part time, it’s in alignment with Makoto’s goals, and it’d give him something to busy himself with as Haruka’s training intensifies.

“You should go for it, Makoto.”

“Eh?”

“He should!” Kisumi readily agrees with Asahi, and Makoto’s eyes get wider. “C’mon, Makoto; you’re a natural at it. Look at what you did for Hiyato in the short time you worked with him!”

“Kisumi. Asahi.” Makoto smiles, then looks at the poster again. Haruka steps forward a bit, just enough to lightly brush fingers over the back of Makoto’s hand, and Makoto’s smile widens slightly. “I might just,” he says softly before he turns around so that he can see the kids in the pool.

There are still lanes open despite the class, but Makoto doesn’t want to disrupt them by being a distraction, so the four of them absently watch and quietly talk while they wait for Tono. The class ends and he still isn’t there, and Haruka starts to get irritated. They’d all made time for this, Makoto more than any of them with the extra practice he’s taken. He gets that the trains can be unpredictable, but part of him wonders if this isn’t some kind of ploy to get Makoto worked up and distracted. Haruka glances at Makoto and then a very slight smile curves his lips. If that’s what it is, it’s not working. Makoto looks confident, strong as he gazes out at the water, and Haruka thinks again that Tono’s in for more of a challenge than Haruka would bet he’s anticipating.

When Tono finally comes through the locker room door, the center has shut most of the lights down, and even Kisumi has a dour look on his face when the four of them turn toward him. They’ll barely have enough time for the race before the open night-session begins, and Haruka can’t help but bristle when all they’re given is a casual, _you’re early_ as he comes over to join them. They had been, but Tono is also later than what he should have been.

“We didn’t think you were coming,” he says coolly to Tono, following suit and skipping any pleasantries. Not that he feels the need for them. This guy’s made it clear that trying to be polite is just a waste of time.

“I keep my promises,” Tono says simply and then he turns that fake smile directly to Haruka. “Unlike you.”

Haruka tenses slightly but manages to keep himself from reacting further, from giving Tono the satisfaction of goading anything out of him. He hears Kisumi softly whisper Asahi’s name and figures his response had been more obvious, but it’s the flash of anger he feels from Makoto that impacts Haru the most, and he glances up at his best friend. His eyes are harder than he’s ever seen them save for a handful of occasions, and he can’t help but feel a slight thrill from it, even as it makes him resent Tono even more for having pushed Makoto to it.

Then again, the other times he can recall had been over someone being nasty toward him, he realizes as Tono asks Makoto if he’s ready, and his heart warms despite the tense situation. They truly have had each other’s backs, always.

While Tono takes some time to stretch, Makoto asks Asahi to count down the start, and Haruka moves back a bit to stand beside Kisumi. “Makoto is certainly something,” he murmurs, and Haruka shoots him a look. “Seeing him like this, you’d never believe he’s the same boy that hid behind you and begged you to not take that stigmatized flat in the spring.” Kisumi smiles a bit. “He’s more approachable on the outside, but beneath, he’s just as complex as you, really.”

“Ah,” Haruka quietly agrees as he considers Makoto’s many layers, how he struggles sometimes, yet—in others—he’s so brave and strong and dependable. How he’s come through everything he has, both personal things and the things that just living in the world today exposes one to, yet is still as sweet and kind and honest, as pure hearted as ever.

“You really love him a lot, don’t you.”

Haruka’s eyes briefly widen as his face rushes with heat and then he snaps a glare over at Kisumi, but he sees no teasing, just an honest smile instead of his foxy grin. Kisumi just laughs at him gently over the reaction, and it embarrasses Haruka more, but he knows he only has himself to blame for it, for letting his feelings for Makoto be so obvious while he’d thought. Or maybe, because of the time they’ve spent together, Kisumi’s learning to read him some too, as Asahi has.

And Haruka finds that he’s not as troubled by that thought as he once would have been, so he smiles, just a _little_ , and lets his eyes find Makoto at the edge of the pool again.

“Ah.” 


	16. Chapter 16

Once Tono has finished his stretching, he and Makoto agree to 100 meters. As Makoto tugs on his cap, his eyes seek Haruka’s again. Haruka finds that same assurance and determination as before, allows himself a slight smile to Makoto, who returns it before slipping his goggles into place and then getting into the water.

Asahi orders Makoto and Tono into position and the two pull themselves up. Haruka can’t help but compare them; it’s become an almost subconscious thing from his years of competitive swimming, and he knows that Asahi is as well, as would anyone else who’d swum long-term like they have. Tono’s close to Makoto in height and his shoulders are fairly broad, but he’s leaner looking. Not that Makoto is overweight or out of shape by any means; Tono just doesn’t have quite the same muscle mass as Makoto. Depending on their styles, their connection with the water, Haruka knows that could go either way: in favor of or against the swimmer.

“Go!” Asahi shouts, and Haruka catches his breath as Makoto pushes off and arcs back. God, he’s missed this, _so_ much, watching Makoto glide through the water and then surface to cut through it so strongly, but even so, he can’t bring himself to regret the choice that Makoto’s made to give up competitive swimming. He’s too proud of Makoto for following his heart and finding his own dream to pursue. 

Makoto is holding his own with ease so Haruka shifts his gaze to Tono. He’s good, too; _very_ good, but there’s a desperation to his stroke. Haruka doesn’t need to be in the water with him to see it. His lips press slightly. It’s even more obvious just how determined Tono is to keep them from Ikuya, and it doesn’t make sense to him. He gets that Ikuya’s hurt and that he’s carried that with him for years, but he also knows that if someone had hurt Makoto that badly, even as inadvertently as their little group had Ikuya, and they were trying to make amends, he’d be practically dragging them to Makoto, and then he’d let _Makoto_ make the decision as to what to do next.

Makoto is just milliseconds behind Hiyori when they make their turn and Haruka’s hands clench into loose fists. “They’re neck and neck,” Asahi crows excitedly, and Kisumi comments again how incredible Makoto is. Haruka’s eyes narrow slightly in satisfaction. Hiyori can feel it, too, he can tell; his splashes translate the bit of worry he feels that he might actually _lose_ , and there’s about a second where Makoto actually pulls ahead. But then Tono seems to realize what his distraction is causing him because his stroke evens back out, and his fingers end up touching the mark just a hair before Makoto’s.

Makoto’s lost. But all Haruka can feel is a burning pride for him. Because Tono, whose been rigorously training multiple times a day under a professional, college-level coach, a coach who trains athletes that end up on Team Japan and going to the Olympics, had had to _work_ for it.

“You’re pretty good,” Tono comments after the two had caught their breaths, and it’s the most genuine thing Haruka’s ever heard him say. It gives him hope, and even more so when Tono sincerely compliments Makoto again after they’re out of the water. Maybe Tono will take Makoto’s performance into consideration after all, he thinks as Makoto returns the compliment, and he finds himself holding his breath a bit, because he can see Makoto’s hope, can hear it in his tone as he steps forward and offers his hand.

“I still don’t think you deserve to see Ikuya, though.”

Makoto’s entire being twitches as if he’s been slapped. He recovers just as quickly, but it’s all for show; Haruka can see his thought in the slope of his shoulders. _I wasn’t good enough._ And Haruka’s angrier at Tono than he’s ever been.

Enraged, Asahi takes a step forward but, with a call of his name, Kisumi holds him at that. A condescending smirk briefly curls along Tono’s lips and then he rolls his gaze back to Makoto, offers to throw them a compensatory bone for the time they’d taken. Something they don’t know about Ikuya, he says, and Haruka dubiously echoes those words as he wonders for the _nth_ time what this guy is up to, what his true motive is. Because he’s not buying that it’s all in the name of protecting Ikuya anymore.

Tono brings up Ikuya’s near-drowning incident, then tells them he experienced another after moving to America. Haruka’s heart clenches as that fear from years before surges to take his breath, as it does Makoto and the others; he can tell by their echoed gasps. Tono tells them how bad it had been, about the hospitalization, how delicate Ikuya is and how he’s grown stronger, and Haruka’s fingers curl into his palms, because Tono’s building toward _something_ , Haruka can feel it beneath the falsely congenial tone.

“But I’ve heard and learned a lot about _you_ , Nanase-kun.”

_Here it comes._ Haruka’s hands clench tighter as he evenly holds the snide gaze.

“Seems like anyone who swims with you ends up suffering somehow, huh?”

The words pierce through the tension in Haruka’s chest sharply enough to catch his breath and pale his cheeks as he’s taken from where he is now to junior high and Asahi’s struggles, to ISC and Rin crying as he tells him he’s going to quit, to that moment in the hall just a few weeks after when Ikuya had asked him so accusingly why _he_ was quitting.

“Haru. Haruka!” Haruka blinks and Makoto’s face comes into focus, his eyes, concern backlit by a fierceness that Haru _knows_ he’s never seen before. “It’s not true, Haru-chan. Don’t you believe a _word_ of it!” Makoto tells him, the words soft, meant just for him, but as strong and steady as the grip he can now feel to either of his shoulders. “Haru!” Makoto’s hands shift up to cup his face with this call and Haruka blinks again and then nods; it must be enough to satisfy Makoto, at least, for the moment, because he smiles a bit, nods himself and then drops his hands, thumbs gently caressing. 

Noise from the locker room door draws their attention and Makoto quickly straightens and takes a step away as people start filtering in for the evening swim. Kisumi comes up to them with Asahi in tow, which is the first Haruka is aware that they’d been missing, and he can only guess from the grip Kisumi has on his boyfriend and the look on his face that Asahi’d torn off after Tono.

“Haru, don’t you listen to him!” Asahi all but spits, he’s still that angry. “Swimming with you is amazing and the best thing that happened to me all those years back. It is!” he persists when Haruka’s breath catches in his surprise. “It was tough, that first little bit, but it made me re-evaluate myself and how I looked at competitive swimming. I’ve not given up trying to beat you, or whoever, but we’re _all_ doing our best to win, which means we’re all the same at our cores. I’ve never forgotten that, Haru, and you made Ikuya want to better himself, too! Sure, he’s aced the crawl, but it’s _your stroke_ he’s built his on, so if anyone’s making _him_ suffer, it’s pro’lly that Tono jerk!”

“Asahi, keep your voice down!” Kisumi hisses, and Haruka’s face warms when he realizes that some of the recreational swimmers are looking in their direction. Asahi mumbles an apology and, as the onlookers go back to their business, Makoto offers them all a small smile.

“We should go anyway. Haru and I just have a short walk, but it’ll be a bit of a drive for you two.”

“Mm. And I know I have homework waiting when I get back,” Kisumi sighs as the four of them head to the lockers.

“Can I just shower at your place, Haru?” Makoto asks as they stop at the bench and Kisumi and Asahi continue through to the lobby. Haru nods and Makoto smiles his thanks, tells him he’ll be right out, and Haruka trails after their friends.

Kisumi detours for the bathroom and, after a second or two, Haruka joins Asahi where he’s dropped onto one of the benches. “Thank you. For earlier,” he adds when Asahi looks at him in question. “I’m—it’s good to know that.”

“I should have told you sooner,” Asahi says promptly. “Then that jerk wouldn’t have been able to use it against you.” There’s a pause, and then, “They must be pretty close, Ikuya and that guy, if Ikuya’s told him stuff like that, huh.”

“Ah.”

Kisumi comes into the lobby before he can say more, Makoto close on his heels, so he and Asahi stand and go over to meet them. As they approach the doors, something catches Haruka’s attention through his reflection and he slows and glances down at his left shoulder, not quite sure of what it is he’s seeing.

“Go ahead, Haru,” Makoto urges as he holds the door, and Haruka looks up and nods. And then his eyes widen.

_Haru. Haruka!_ Makoto’s hands on his shoulders, the fury behind his concern… It’s a bit of blood on his shirt, and Haruka’s features soften as his heart gently aches. He knows exactly how it had gotten there.

He and Makoto see Kisumi and Asahi to the car park and then turn and head back toward the playground on the other side of the community center. As they leave the sidewalk, Haruka slips his hand into Makoto’s, but not fully, just enough to lightly run his fingers over the four crescent-shaped cuts he can feel there. “Makoto,” he sighs softly, fully taking his hand after gently caressing them again, and as they step out from under one of the lights and back into the darkness, Haruka turns his head to press a light, discreet kiss to Makoto’s shoulder.

“I was just so… so _angry_ , Haru,” Makoto says lowly after a second or two. “It was _all I could do_ to not go after him for what he said, but I knew I couldn’t. You wouldn’t want that, not there, especially, since we’re there so often, and besides, I really would like to try for that job, and how would _that_ have looked? And more than all that, you needed me with you more than you needed me after him, never mind that Asahi had _already_ taken off, and then people started coming in…

_He wasn’t worth it, Haru, and you are_ , is what Haru hears beneath it, and he gently squeezes Makoto’s hand, so, _so_ glad that he’s been blessed with this boy that walks beside him. “Thank you, Makoto,” he murmurs, looking up at him. _For staying with me. For bringing me back from where he put me._ And he knows that Makoto’s read what he didn’t say by the soft affection in his eyes.

“Always,” he promises with a squeeze in return and then, as they head back toward the sidewalks, “You don’t believe him, right? You know it’s just… garbage he spewed to try to hurt you?”

Haruka gives a very small smile. “There is some truth to what he said,” he begins, silencing Makoto’s ready protest with a look. “But, no more truth to it than the basic law of competition. For every winner, there’s a loser, and that means _some_ bit of suffering. It was hard in that moment,” Haruka says quietly. “His tone, his choice of words, the way he looked at me; it all took me back, to Asahi, to Rin and then Ikuya.” He takes a soft breath, then releases it. “But then you brought me back from that place and I remembered everything you’ve ever said; you and Nagisa and Rei. The people who really matter. I feel badly that Ikuya is suffering, but I know that I don’t bear full responsibility for it.”

Makoto sighs, it slightly shaky in his relief. “Good. I’m _so_ glad, Haru. Because Asahi’s right. Swimming with you is the best thing that’s happened to me, too. _One_ of the best things,” he amends, and when Haruka glances up at him at the cross light, he sees a shade across his cheek, one that makes his go warm, too. He can’t be certain what Makoto is thinking, whether it’s something from long ago or their nearer past, but he knows it’s something soft and sentimental. Haruka’s blush burns hotter when he suddenly feels like he can’t wait another minute to kiss him, because they’re literally only three from home.

“I’m glad we’re so close,” Makoto murmurs, reading his thoughts. Haruka glances up, sees how Makoto’s eyes are on his lips, and he blushes all over again—and then they both jerk their gazes away and straight ahead when they hear others come up behind them.

The light changes and they step into the walk, and Haruka huffs a laugh when he has to work to keep up with Makoto's pace. "Makoto!"

Makoto goes red again, mumbles an apology. "I'm just really glad we're close," he says again, sheepishly this time, as he slows.

"Idiot," Haruka grumbles as _his_ face warms again, but he makes himself hold Makoto's eyes as he murmurs, "Me too."


	17. Chapter 17

As soon as Haruka shuts the door, he turns to Makoto and steps into him, hands sliding up to his shoulders, Makoto’s finding his waist. They tilt their heads toward the other’s, mouths coming together, and god, Haruka feels like it’s been an age since he’s last kissed him. He supposes it has been since they have done properly; a week can be an age when you’re new in love, right? He thinks so, anyway, and so must Makoto from the way their tongues meet between their mouths, each seeking out the other’s taste. It’s an electrifying sensation and Haruka’s grip briefly tightens before he relaxes his hands to slide them around Makoto’s neck, one slipping up into his hair. Makoto gives the same little groan he had the last time and Haruka flexes his fingers through the thick tresses as he strokes over Makoto’s tongue and then into his mouth for a moment before coaxing Makoto’s tongue into his in turn.

They kiss slow and deep, back and forth, for several minutes until, breathless, they finally pull apart. Haruka rests his head on Makoto’s shoulder for a moment, eyes sliding closed when he feels Makoto kiss his hair, and then he straightens and takes a step back from him. “Go shower, then I’ll look at your hand.”

“Haru, your bath!”

“Go, Makoto. I’ll just shower tonight.” And then Haruka busies himself with taking off his shoes because, the way Makoto’s looking at him, he wants to kiss him all over again, and he’s determined they’re not going to spend most of what of the night they have left in the genkan like they had at Makoto’s.

“I’ll be right out,” Makoto says and Haruka straightens and nods before heading into the kitchen. He doesn’t bother to ask Makoto if he’s hungry. He knows Makoto has to be for as much as _he_ is, but he knows that, if he asks, Makoto will tell him he’s fine because he won’t want to put Haru through the trouble. He has a mackerel fillet they can share, and enough cold rice, and of the seaweed salad he’d made up the other day, for the both of them. It’s not a lot, but they’ll be going to bed soon, so it’ll be perfect, he decides, and he pointedly ignores the warmth that lightly curls through him as he thinks about sharing a bed with Makoto again.

Makoto comes out not more than ten minutes later, still drying his hair. Knowing that Makoto can at least reheat the rice without causing an incident, Haruka tells him to tend to that and divvying out the salad as he passes him for the shower. He simply can’t wait anymore. For as much as he loves the pool and doesn’t mind the scent of chlorine, he hates when he doesn’t get a chance to properly rinse off after.

Makoto’s done as he’d instructed, and then some, by the time Haru’s come back out. The table’s set up, their laptops, and the salads, ready on it; the rice is heated and ready to serve, and he’s pulling the fish from the refrigerator as Haruka steps into the kitchen. “Thanks,” Haruka murmurs as Makoto straightens and hands him the fillet. Makoto nods, dips his head to press a kiss to Haruka’s cheek, and then pads out to drop down in front of his laptop.

And Haruka’s chest gently aches for how much like home it all is. How much he’s missed it, and even more so after the night they’d spent together. How he already knows he’ll miss it even more after this one.

It isn’t long before Haruka joins Makoto at the table, plates in hand. Makoto looks up from what he’s doing to offer Haruka proper thanks and then they both fall to eating and working. As usual, Makoto clears once they’ve finished, and then, about an hour later, he closes his laptop and gets up to start the dishes since he’s the first done. This time, though, Haruka catches him by his fingertips as he goes by. “I’m finished, too, and you don’t need to be in the dishwater. I’ll get them, then look at your hand.”

“Haru. Fine, fine,” he says with a little laugh when Haruka just continues to stare at him, and he squats to begin clearing the table of their computers and books instead.

“Good.” Haruka knows that he’s making more of a fuss than is warranted, but Makoto deserves the spoiling. He’s not forgotten how amazing Makoto had been or the brief moment of defeat through his shoulders, either one, and he feels a bit bad that Makoto’s near win had been overshadowed by Tono’s ignorance.

Once Haruka has finished in the kitchen, the table is put away and Makoto’s coming out of the bathroom from having brushed his teeth. Haruka orders Makoto to sit on the bed and he goes to get his first aid kit. Haruka kneels in front of him, between Makoto’s feet, then gently takes his hand, flips it over so that it’s resting palm-up on Makoto’s knee. He’d been right; the cuts are barely visible, especially after Makoto’s shower, but he tends to them properly anyway, cleaning them out with an alcohol pad and then smoothing a small amount of antibiotic ointment over them.

Recalling what Makoto had said, Haruka asks for his other hand next. Makoto gives him a sheepish look that tells what Haruka will find before he sees the set of identical marks, but Haruka says nothing, just treats them to the same bit of care he had the first. “There,” he murmurs once he’s finished, and he stands and returns to the bathroom to put the kit back and brush his teeth. He shuts out the lights as he comes back through, then slips into bed with Makoto, turning to face him. “Makoto was amazing tonight,” he murmurs once he’s settled in. Haruka smiles a bit, gives into temptation, brings a hand up to lightly brush fingers through Makoto’s bangs. “Tono may have won, but not by even a second, and he had to _work_ for it.” 

Makoto’s lashes fall slightly, from the praise or the touch, Haruka isn’t sure, but he’s certain that Makoto’s blushing some, too, and he likes knowing that he’s responsible for it, more than he probably should.

“Thanks, Haru,” Makoto murmurs, and then his eyes flutter closed as Haruka lowers his fingers to lightly touch a warmed cheek. “I’m pleased with how I did, too. I did feel bad that I didn’t win,” Makoto admits, and then he softly laughs and, after pressing a kiss to the finger Haruka had put over his lips, he brings his hand up to move it away. “But I also don’t think it would have mattered, anyway. I don’t know that he ever intended to make good on the deal. He sure didn’t talk or act like it.” Makoto quietly sighs, and Haruka’s fingers still in their idle caressing.

“Makoto?”

“I just wish I knew what was going on, is all. We were both swimming for the same reason; for someone we care deeply about. But the way his stroke shifted at times; it was almost desperate, his want to win. Like there’s something deeper to it all than wanting to protect Ikuya.”

_And I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is_ , Haruka hears in the silence that follows.

“You did what you could, and you have nothing to feel bad about, Makoto,” Haruka says firmly, and he steadily holds Makoto’s gaze when he opens his eyes. “I think you’re right. It wouldn’t have mattered who swam against him and whether they’d won or lost. We’ll just keep trying until we hear from Ikuya himself that he doesn’t want us to.”

“I hope that doesn’t happen,” Makoto murmurs, and Haruka lightly caresses his cheek again.

“Me too,” he replies quietly, “But let’s let it go for now, hm?”

“Mm.”

“Good.” Haruka slips his fingers along Makoto’s jawline to his chin, then tips Makoto’s head up slightly so he can kiss him.

Makoto responds, their lips moving softly against each other’s for a moment, and then he breaks away, swallows softly. “I’ve been thinking of kissing Haru all day,” he murmurs, words washing warmly over Haruka’s moist lips and sending a shiver through him. “Ever since you told me I could stay.”

“Me too. Since before you even asked if you could,” Haruka shares, and his face warms with such an admission, but then they’re kissing again and his awkwardness fades, pushed away by the feel of Makoto’s tongue stroking over his own. They trade back and forth as they had in the genkan, but it’s different now, needier from both of them, after their admissions, the two of them barely breaking for air before they’re kissing deeper and hungrier than before.

At some point, Haruka realizes that he’s put Makoto onto his back and is hovering over him, their chests pressed together. Makoto’s breaths are soft and fast, his eyes lidded as he looks up at him; he swallows and Haruka’s gaze is drawn to the bob of his throat. Licking his lips, he mouths along Makoto’s jaw and then down, heat prickling through him when he feels the faint graze of the light shadow that Makoto’s woken up with for nearly a year. Makoto swallows again, breathing Haruka’s name, and Haruka presses his mouth to the prominence at Makoto’s throat; Makoto softly groans, the vibration shooting southward from Haruka’s lips.

Breathing rapidly himself, Haruka returns to Makoto’s mouth, licks into it fast and deep, and then breaks the kiss with a low grunt of surprise when Makoto rolls up to hover over Haruka in turn. He takes the opposite path, moving along Haruka’s jaw toward his ear, and when Makoto’s lips drop beneath it and brush over his pulse point, Haruka’s breath hitches in a low, throaty sound before he can stop it.

Makoto looks up at the sound; it’s too dark to see the question in his eyes but Haruka can read it in his features. His words get stuck because just saying _it feels good, do it more_ , is too embarrassing; maybe one day he’ll be past it, but now, he’s caught between it being too new and _wanting_ more, so he just tangles a hand in Makoto’s hair and gently encourages his mouth to his neck again, eyes sliding closed at the soft moan Makoto gives in response. It’s different than the sound he’d made when Haruka had tugged his hair before, so, he thinks, it must be because Makoto knows he’s pleasing _him_ , and his eyes squeeze shut tighter because isn’t _that_ a scintillating thought.

Then again, for as much as Makoto had nudged Haruka along from one thing to another, he’s always looked out for, taken care of him, too. And Haruka knows that his happiness and wellbeing are Makoto’s own, just as Makoto’s are for him. So perhaps this is just another instance of not necessarily _new_ , but what they have shifting into _more._

Makoto’s mouth leaves his pulse point to travel along his jaw and then their lips meet again. Haruka’s glad Makoto isn’t any more on top of him than what he is; he’s gotten hard from their kisses and tentative explorations, and he isn’t quite sure of how he feels about more tonight, which means he probably isn’t ready for it. Makoto breaks the kiss, then shifts to rest his forehead on Haruka’s shoulder; Haruka feels him take a slow breath, and then release it, slightly shuddering.

“Makoto?” There’s nothing, and Haruka brings a hand up to lightly touch his cheek, to try and bring his gaze up. It’s hot to the touch, Makoto doesn’t move his head, and Haru’s face warms because he figures Makoto is _probably_ in the same state he is. He doesn’t say anything, just moves his hand to lightly stroke through Makoto’s hair, and when he feels Makoto relax, he tries nudging his face up again. This time, Makoto lets him, and Haruka’s eyes go soft when he sees how Makoto avoids them; he brushes a gentle kiss over Makoto’s lips, then eases back. “We should sleep,” is all he says. “You’ve got a full day tomorrow, after swim.”

“Mm.” Makoto kisses him lightly, then shifts onto his side, facing him; Haruka rolls as well, back to Makoto, but not pressed against him. His face warms as he wonders what it’d feel like, cradled into those hips, held close by Makoto’s strong arm with Makoto hard against him, but he lets it go with a silent, but slightly shaky, breath of his own. He’ll find out; that and more, he has no doubt, when they’re ready.


	18. Chapter 18

_I did it, Haru! I got the job!_

Haruka reads the text through, and then again, and then he closes his eyes and lets his head lightly thunk against the window of the slowing train. He’s thrilled for Makoto and _so_ proud of him, but the text had come over twelve hours ago, and he’s upset with himself for not having thought to check his phone before now. He’s been better about it since coming to Tokyo and he’s _had_ to, but it had been as if he’d forgotten its existence entirely once he’d texted Makoto to let him know he’d made it safely to the day camp, until it had been time to text and let him know he’d made it home. He’d had time to. It hadn’t been as if they’d spent _every_ moment from nine o’clock through the twelve hours that had followed in the pool or at lecture. But, for whatever reason, his brain had shut itself off from anything outside of the pool and training once he’d entered the facility.

As soon as Haruka steps off the train and has enough space to, he stops and quickly texts Makoto back.

_I knew you would. Good job, Makoto._

And then,

_I’m proud of you._

And then,

_I’m back, by the way. At the station._

And finally, after worrying his lip just a little,

_Sorry._

Haruka slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way from the platform, but he barely clears it when he feels a buzz from his pocket. With a slight scowl, he pulls his phone out again and turns the sound back on, because he’s not going to miss any _more_ of Makoto’s texts. When he accesses the one that had just come through, Haruka can’t help but smile a bit. Makoto had sent a laughing emoji, and then,

_I didn’t know Haru could text that fast! Sorry for what?_ Makoto sends on its heels, before Haruka could respond to the smart-assed tease in the first, and Haruka sobers.

_Missing your text for so long._ He doesn’t go into how he feels badly for having missed their morning swim for the first time since they’d set the schedule. They’d been over that and, while it does suck, they both know that cancelling plans and reworking calendars is going to be a necessary evil for… well, for a long while, if Haruka’s bid for the global stage is a success.

_It’s fine!_ Makoto sends back, and Haruka swears he can see the gentle smile and slant of his eyes in those two words. _I saw the syllabus for your camp, remember? I knew it would be a busy day. I just wanted Haru to be the first to know, even if just by text!_

Haruka smiles a bit at that, but it fades as quickly as it had risen and he loosely holds his phone, half his mind trying to think of a response beyond _ah,_ and the other part thinking about Makoto and how brave he is, how much he’s changed from the boy who’d gotten _so_ nervous about anything new or overwhelming, to this… man with confidence enough that he’s putting himself out there. And it’s not only for this job, but at Meiju, too, in his classes and clubs where he’s had to make new friends, or at least acquaintances, because he’d had _none_ , and he’d known that going in and had done so anyway. Was he close enough to anyone there that he’d had at least _someone_ to share such news with, Haruka wonders? He’s heard a few names, but doesn’t know if they’re friends, or simply peers, and Haruka knows that, if Kisumi and Asahi had found out, it had likely been over text like he had. He doesn’t know why, but it hurts him, the thought that Makoto hadn’t had anyone to celebrate something so big with in person. That _he_ hadn’t been there.

Makoto is right; Haruka knows this. Yes, there _had_ been time in between training and lectures, but it had been filled with talk of what they’d been working on, of past experiences, of tips and tricks and gripes. Of course, not all of it had been applicable to everyone, and little of it to Haruka, whose main focus is his connection to the water and what it communicates to him. But it had been interesting, had drawn him in, and beyond that, he couldn’t have known that Makoto would find out _today_. Still, he’s disgruntled all the same and, after another moment’s thought, his lips press together, and he calls Makoto instead of texting him.

“Haru! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Haruka is quick to assure, lips curving up in wry amusement despite the concern in Makoto’s words. He really _is_ the worst at using his phone. “I just—” he pauses as his awkwardness briefly surges, but he swallows it back and lightly licks his lower lip. “Makoto is amazing, and I knew that they’d bring you on, soon as you said that night that you wanted it.” It’s rushed, slightly stilted, Haruka knows it is, but:

“Haru! Thank you, Haru-chan,” Makoto says softly after his breathed response to the emotion and sincerity he always, _always_ hears beneath Haruka’s discomfort. “I’m a little nervous,” he admits, but then he smiles, Haruka can hear it as he follows up with, “But mostly excited.”

“That’s normal, I think,” Haruka replies, and then, “When do you start?”

“I went today after lab to take care of the paperwork and give them my class and club schedules. I’ll be working with the 8-10’s and the 11-13’s. My first session is tomorrow at five, and I’ll get my schedule for the rest of the semester then.”

“Misaki’s group, then,” Haruka says with a slight smile of the latter, though it fades as Makoto affirms. Makoto’s schedule tomorrow won’t allow him time for anything between his last lecture and first session save for travel, which means a late dinner after an early lunch, but there’s not a lot either of them can do about it. “I’m cooking you dinner on Friday,” Haruka decides.

“Haru, thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I know you’ve got catching up to do after the day camp!”

“I’ll finish up what’s left after tomorrow at your place Friday once we eat,” he says, and then, “Makoto, I want to. You’ll be running on pre-packaged all day tomorrow, so a real meal will be nice, right?”

“…It would be, yeah,” Makoto admits sheepishly, and then, after a slight pause, “Stay over?”

Haruka’s cheeks warm slightly. He’d been planning on telling Makoto he’d be staying; he wants to supervise Makoto’s groceries on Saturday and help him get at least _some_ quick, _Makoto-proof_ meals around for the following week, but he _really_ likes that Makoto had asked him.

“Ah. You can sleep in while I go for practice, then we can get some errands done when I get back and you’re done with your study group.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Haruka replies as he lets himself into his apartment, and he smiles a bit. _That_ hadn’t felt stilted at all.

He and Makoto talk for almost an hour, nearly through Haruka’s bath. By the time he finishes and then gets done what he absolutely has to for the next day, the morning comes far earlier than what he would have liked. But there’s a pool waiting for him once he drags himself out of his bed and his apartment, so he deals with it. He’s sore from the camp the day before, sorer still by the time the coach is done with them, and he’s glad that he has a class he likes directly after or he knows he would have struggled getting through it.

Asahi and he meet for lunch, and even Asahi is subdued. They briefly talk through an assignment for one of the classes they both have, and then the conversation shifts to Ikuya. They haven’t had time to go again as a group, and neither Haruka nor Asahi feel like they’d accomplish _anything_ going on their own, other than more frustration. They still don’t know where Ikuya lives, and it’s pretty clear that Tono is either with, or _somehow_ has eyes on, Ikuya whenever Ikuya’s on campus; they both know that neither of them will get anywhere with Tono. “Hell, if Makoto didn’t, nobody’s gonna,” Asahi says with a furrowed brow. “ _Everyone_ likes Makoto.”

“Maybe not. If Ikuya’s talked about us to them, then Tono knows Makoto and I are close,” Haruka says as he pokes through rice that’s more on the mediocre side than good today.

“He’d have known that soon as he saw Makoto step up to take that race for you, if Ikuya hasn’t,” Asahi opines, and Haruka lightly rolls his eyes.

“He’d have done the same for you, you know.”

“Ah, but not so scarily. Never knew Makoto could be that intimidating,” he confesses with a hint of a smirk. “I wouldn’t want to be on that side of him.”

“What about Kisumi?” Haruka asks in a blunt attempt to turn the focus away from his boyfriend’s protective streak _before_ the warmth it makes him feel starts to show in his cheeks. 

“He’s cold when he’s angry. Not fiery like Makoto was.” Haruka about chokes on his mackerel as the color flares in his face anyway.

“I meant to go try with Ikuya again, you idiot!”

“Oh. Nah,” Asahi says with a shake of his head, taking the insult in stride, but then he colors a bit as well. “That guy probably at least assumes we’re together, given how Kisumi tore after me when I tore after him.”

“Maybe not.” But, Haruka supposes, it’s neither here nor there. Kisumi had been with them, which means he’s likely guilty by association to Tono. “We’ll think of something,” he mumbles and, given the way Asahi just nods and sighs, he knows Asahi feels about as confident of that as he does.

The afternoon goes a bit quicker, and better, than the morning and, as soon as Haruka steps into the aquaplex, his achiness just kind of goes away. It’s always been like that for him, though; it truly is a rarity that water can’t soothe whatever ache Haruka’s feeling, be it mental or physical—at least, in the moment. He has no doubt that, once practice is done and he’s on his way home, he’ll be even sorer. The weekend is coming up, though, and he can’t help but smile a bit as he thinks about it; in part for the bit of extra rest he’ll get, yes, but mostly because of where he’ll be for the first half of it. Haruka glances at the clock as he falls into line with his teammates. It’s a little early, Makoto’s just heading for the train, but Haruka’s mind is with him _now_ , so he sends a silent good luck wish to Makoto before they’re called to attention.

After running over their various stats and telling them what they’d be working on, coach lets them go to get to it. Haruka goes through his warmup and stretches, eyes locked on the pool whenever they’re able, and when he’s finally able to dive in, it’s a bit of bliss. Swimming is more work now than it’s ever been, but Haruka figures that, so long as he doesn’t lose that sensation, that bit of freedom that he always feels with the water’s first embrace, he’ll manage just fine with it.

Toward the end of the practice, coach calls him out of the water. Haruka’s brow arches slightly when, as pulls himself up off the nearest edge, he hears him call for Asahi and Kiryuu, and his curiosity further mounts when he sees Mikoshiba standing in wait for them. Asahi gives him a quick, questioning look and Haruka responds with a miniscule shrug. He has no more idea what’s going on than Asahi does.

Haruka’s eyes go slightly wide when Coach tells them he wants them to swim the freestyle relay in the upcoming intercollegiate race. Not because they’re not good; Haruka doesn’t know Kiryuu all that well but he has an excellent crawl, just as Asahi and Mikoshiba do. He just thinks it’s pretty incredible that Coach thinks he and the other first-years are good _enough._ It’ll be extra work on top of what they already have, but Haruka can’t grouse about that, at least not in this moment. It’s a huge honor, a huge confidence boost, and he can tell that Asahi and Kiryuu are feeling it too as they make their way into the locker room once they’re dismissed.

The three of them talk about it a bit as they shower, but not much; Kiryuu has club he has to get to, so he’s hurrying, and Haruka’s a little glad. He wants to get home and get through as much work as he can so he’s bringing as little of it as he has to with him to Makoto’s tomorrow.

“Holy crap!”

Haruka turns his head slightly to arch a brow at Asahi across the bench, but Asahi’s still facing his locker. “What?” he asks instead, and _then_ Asahi turns, surprised.

“You didn’t get Makoto’s text?”

Haruka’s brows shoot up. “I’ve not looked at my phone yet,” he replies as he turns back to his locker so that he can grab it _now._ He knows that it can’t be too personal or it would have come to Haruka alone, but he feels badly that he’d not been the first to see it; residual guilt from having let Makoto’s text the day before sit as long as it had, he supposes. Which is also why his cell phone is on top of his bag, versus buried somewhere inside it.

Haruka sees the notification for the group message when he brings up his lock screen, but there are three others there as well, sent to him alone. Brow furrowing slightly, he opens them in order, and then he smiles a bit as he reads the first.

_Here I go! Wish me luck, Haru-chan!_

“I did,” he replies so far under his breath that _he_ can barely hear it, and then his brows shoot up when he reads the one that had followed:

_Haru! Nao-senpai was the coach I’m replacing! Can you believe it?_

“Well, that’s a coincidence.”

“I know, right? And how cool is it that Nao-senpai’s available tomorrow night like the three of us are?” Asahi says excitedly as Haruka finally accesses and reads the group text. He hums his affirmative as he reads the final one, another that had been sent just for him and directly after the group text:

_Sorry, Haru-chan. ^_^;;_

Haruka's lips curve slightly. It figures that it would be on the one night this week that he and Makoto had made plans, but he can’t be upset about it. It really _is_ a miracle that Nao’s availability matched up with theirs and, while he and Makoto could just have a later meal, he knows how Makoto feels about taking table space at _Marron_ without ordering something, and especially during dinner time. He feels the same. It’s Akane’s livelihood, after all.

_Don’t. I’ll come Saturday after lunch, instead._

It actually works out better, he thinks, ignoring the small suggestion in the back of his head that says _why not all weekend?_ They won’t be dodging around practice and study group, and they’ll be able to do things on their own time instead.

_Okay! That’d probably be better anyway with how our Saturdays are! Love you; gotta go!_

Haruka huffs a soft laugh at how they’d shared the thought and slips his phone into his bag.

“You musta got a whole different message than I did, Haru,” Asahi declares through a laugh, and Haruka looks up, having half-forgotten he was there.

“Shut up,” he mutters when he sees Asahi’s teasing leer, but it doesn’t stop him from quickly grabbing his phone when Makoto’s text tone sounds again.

_You’ll still stay, right?_

Haruka’s cheeks warm, from the message, from how he can’t help but smile _again_ , even when Asahi snickers at his reaction.

_Yes._


	19. Chapter 19

Haruka feels the bus start to slow and he puts the book he’d been reading back into his bag. He isn't usually one for reading on the bus, but right now, Every little bit of time helps. As he glances up, he smiles a bit to himself. Asahi is already on his feet and half in the aisle, ready to queue to get off. Haruka isn’t surprised. He knows how eager Asahi is to see Nao again.

_Seems like anyone who swims with you ends up suffering somehow, huh?_

Haruka’s lips press as Tono’s words drift back through his mind, and not for the first time. Just because he knows that it isn’t true, at least, not how Tono had meant it, doesn’t mean he can make the words go away any easier. He hadn’t known until he and Asahi been talking about some memories earlier that Nao had helped Asahi through a couple of tougher times during those days that Asahi hadn’t been able to swim free.

Haruka’s glad that Nao had been able to be there for him and, for a moment, he wonders how his life might have differed had he reached out to someone during his crises instead of withdrawing as he had. It causes an uncomfortable sensation through his stomach, the thought of burdening someone like that, but he knows that’s _his_ issue, _considering_ it a burden. For Makoto, for _them,_ he’s working on that. Looking back, he can see that Makoto, even as young as he’d been, would have gladly taken any or all of it from him in exchange for having been left wondering and in the dark. That knowledge, with the memories of their fight last fall, is what will keep him from inadvertently hurting Makoto like that again. Because _that_ thought makes him feel so much worse than the other, hurts his heart as well as his gut.

“Haru? You okay?”

Haruka blinks then looks up at Asahi. “Ah.” He quickly stands and joins the queue off the bus.

“Pro’lly just excited, too, eh?” Asahi continues once they’re on the sidewalk and headed toward _Marron_ , and Haruka can’t help but smile just a bit.

“Ah,” he replies, and he is, though not for the same reason as Asahi. He’s looking forward to seeing Nao again, sure, but it’s Makoto that’s on his mind, more so than usual; the boy that had stood by him through that entire dark time while fighting the darkness himself, who’s _always_ been there for him; who, for reasons Haruka doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand, loves, is _in love_ with, him. And he’s glad that _Marron_ is close because he doesn’t feel like he can wait a minute more to see, to be with, him.

Makoto is at their table when he and Asahi walk in; so is Nao, and there is a handful of other customers, but it’s alright. Just seeing his best friend is enough for now, and he returns Makoto’s smile with a soft one of his own as he slips into the chair beside him. As Asahi exuberantly greets Nao, Makoto tips his head just a hint and slightly arches a brow at him, and Haruka gives a minute nod to the silent, _you okay?_ He is, and besides, he can’t exactly tell Makoto what he’d been thinking about anyway; doesn’t know if he’d have been able to had they been completely alone. Maybe, he thinks. Some things have started to be a little easier over the past couple of weeks.

“You’ve all grown up since we saw each other last,” Nao says, addressing them all and drawing Makoto’s and Haruka’s attention to the conversation, “But then again, it has been a while. Have you all been well?”

“For the most part,” Haruka replies honestly, but with a smile, and then Akane comes with their waters and she and Nao take a few seconds to tease Asahi a bit.

“And Ikuya?” Nao asks as Akane walks away. Haruka’s smile fades, and he can feel the shift in Makoto’s demeanor as well. “Have you been able to get in touch with him? Natsuya told me he’s at a university in Tokyo, too!” 

Haruka finds it hard to hold Nao’s warmly curious gaze and his own drops slightly. He doesn’t know how to answer and still be truthful. He knows that Nao and Natsuya had been good friends in junior high and he can only assume they still are since they’re still in contact. He doesn’t want to seem as if he’s complaining or calling Ikuya’s behavior out—

“He is.” And it’s amazing how just those two words from Makoto ease the tension that had been building inside him. Haruka doesn’t have to worry about finding the words now. Makoto has them, as he’s always done. “He’s attending Shimogami. We saw him for the first time in years at the newcomer’s tournament a few weeks back.”

“Really!” Nao sounds pleased, but then, after a moment, he asks in a slightly cautious tone, “What is it?” Haruka can only assume that Asahi looks how Haruka feels at Ikuya’s mention: sad and hurt, a little lost.

“It didn’t look like Ikuya’s been doing very well,” Makoto replies, and while his tone hasn’t changed, Haruka can sense the bit of tension that’s crept into his posture; a tell he’s picked up on after years of watching Makoto hide feelings and fears from others behind his pleasantness and smile. And he decides that he isn’t going to let Makoto bear this burden on his own. He would, Haruka knows that, and he knows he’ll likely make himself feel even more awkward than he already does. But they are in this together, the three of them, and then him and Makoto on a whole different level. They're supposed to share things, Makoto and him, the troublesome with the good, right? 

“It’s because of me,” Haruka states. He looks up when Nao makes a soft, questioning noise, but then looks at his water glass again. “Ikuya’s teammate told me. He said that I make everyone that swims with me suffer in some way or another.”

“Haru,” Makoto softly murmurs as Nao’s breath catches in his surprise.

“C’mon, Haru, you know that’s not true!” Haruka’s head jerks up at Asahi vehemently cuts in over both of them. “You’ve swam with Makoto and I a lot, and neither of us have suffered!”

“Asahi’s right, Haru,” Makoto says with a warm smile, and then he looks at Nao again. “We’ve been trying to figure out how we can help, but…”

“You can’t just talk to him?” Nao asks when Makoto trails off.

“We’ve tried,” Makoto replies quietly. “But Tono-kun, that’s the teammate Haru mentioned, he’s pretty determined to keep Haru away from Ikuya.”

“I see. Let me talk to Natsuya,” Nao continues after a brief, thoughtful pause. “But I still think there’s more that you three might be able to do, speaking as one former teammate to another.”

That catches Haruka’s attention and he looks up at Nao curiously, but Nao simply offers them all a kind smile, and what can they all say to that, but _yes?_

That seems to satisfy Nao because he drops it and catches Akane’s eye; they all order their meals and then the four of them talk about other memories from the past, as well as what they’re all pursuing in Tokyo. It’s good conversation, comfortable, and the food is good, as always, but Nao’s statement never really leaves Haruka’s mind, and he idly turns it over and over as he listens, and occasionally speaks. He’s only fully drawn away from it when, as Nao shares a bit about his experiences, Haruka notices that Makoto is keenly listening. It’s good for Makoto, too, Haruka thinks, that their paths crossed with Nao’s again. Now Makoto not only has Kisumi beside him in the stands, but Nao to talk career paths with. Granted, they’re not _identical_ , but they’re fairly similar, plus it has to help Makoto to know that he’s not the only one out off the many swimmers they’ve known from Iwatobi whose chosen a path that doesn’t involve competitive swimming.

Time flows fast between the four of them, and Haruka is surprised when Nao says they all likely should be going; even more so when he realizes that it’s dark outside. They all say goodbye and promise to meet up the next time they’re all able; at the very least, Nao says, he’ll be at the intercollegiate races to watch them. “Walk you to your stop?” Makoto asks after they’ve grabbed their things from the basket and, while part of Haruka feels badly that he’ll be doubling back and then some to get home, he doesn’t deny him. He knows that Makoto had asked as it’ll be the only chance they’ll have for time alone.

Once they step outside, Makoto falls into step beside Haruka, close enough that their hands will occasionally brush. Out on the public streets, it’s the most either of them feels comfortable with; for as far as Japan has come, PDA still isn’t a _thing_ , even between straight couples. Haruka’s brow furrows slightly as he considers that thought beneath listening to Makoto talk about how nice the visit was and what an interesting path Nao has chosen. He doesn’t know that he’s gay as he’s simply not felt an attraction to _anyone_ outside of Makoto, and that hadn’t been until after he’d realized just how deeply in love with him he is. But he doesn’t know what else he’d call himself. He wonders if it’s the same with Makoto, but, in the same thought, doesn’t really _want_ to know. He doesn’t like the thought of Makoto having been attracted to anyone else. And honestly? It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re together. That’s how it’s meant to be and how it’ll stay.

“Haru?” Haruka glances up, sees from Makoto’s expression that it hadn’t been the first call of his name. “You must be tired,” Makoto excuses of Haruka’s having spaced out. “I know it’s been a long day for you.” He worries his lip for a moment and then, as the light changes and they start to cross, “I should have offered Haru to stay tonight, too,” he says, and there’s apology there, but something else too that causes Haruka to look up at him again. He sees a hint of shyness in his eyes and a soft pink in his cheeks and, swallowing down his own bit of nerves, he says,

“I thought about that, too. But then I thought, _no; just leave it. Don’t be selfish._ ”

“Haru!” Makoto almost stops in the middle of the street, and it’s only due to Haruka, face on fire, grabbing Makoto’s arm and encouraging him into walking again. “Sorry,” he murmurs, but then, “You could never be selfish, Haru-chan. Besides, I’d always want Haru to sta- Haru, what are you doing?” Makoto blurts when, abruptly, Haruka grabs his arm again, but this time, turns them around and toward Makoto’s stop. Because there's no way Haruka is going to leave him now; not with how sweet and cute he looks and sounds, with what he’s just confessed. Not with how badly Haruka wants to kiss him for all of it.

“No _chan_ ,” Haruka cuts, and then, after a moment or two, when he gets his heart back under control, “And you shouldn’t say that. About me. Being selfish,” he clarifies with Makoto’s look. “I think I could be very much so when it comes to you.”

“Haru.” Makoto’s smile is dazzling, warm like the sun in the darkness, and Haruka can’t look at him right then, so he turns his head, and Makoto softly laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Haru.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Haru.” Haru looks up at him with this particular cadence of his name. “I always want Haru to stay,” he repeats, voice soft, but serious, despite the shyness in his eyes, and Haruka colors deeply and looks away again.

“Don’t say that out here,” he snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it and he can tell Makoto knows by the way he laughs. 

They fall silent as they queue up to get on the bus; it’s later, so there are a few seats available, and they take a set that’s together. After it starts to move, Makoto shifts his backpack just so and then discreetly covers Haruka’s hand with his own; Haruka’s heart beats a bit faster at the boldness and he can feel the speed of Makoto’s in the pulse of his wrist, so he turns his to lightly lace their fingers as he studiously gazes out the window and pretends that his face isn’t on fire from the warmth in his stomach and heart.


	20. Chapter 20

The walk is short from the stop to Makoto’s apartment, and Haruka almost has to laugh for how Makoto reaches for him as soon as they’re in the genkan; probably would if he wasn’t so wanting of his touch, his kiss. It feels like forever, so he can’t bring himself to even tease Makoto about this seemingly new habit of theirs. He just moves into Makoto’s arms, tips his head, parts his lips, and sighs softly against Makoto’s tongue as it gently eases past them. Makoto’s hands slip to his waist and lightly squeeze with the sound, and then tug him just a bit closer when Haruka lifts his tongue to play with Makoto’s before chasing the kiss back to his mouth. He does, however, ease back as soon as this first kiss breaks.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” he suggests when Makoto looks at him in question. “I’ll have to leave early for practice, and I’d rather not spend most of my time with you in the genkan.” Makoto laughs even as he blushes, and he lifts his hand to sheepishly rub his cheek. “Don’t,” Haruka says quickly before Makoto can verbally apologize. “It’s the same for me.”

“Haru.” Haruka hides his warm face against Makoto’s shirt when he’s pulled in close again. “I’m glad,” he murmurs against Haruka’s hair. “And glad Haru doesn’t think me selfish for what I said before.”

It takes Haruka a moment or two to catch onto what Makoto’s saying, but then he brings a hand up and lightly slaps his upper arm. “Idiot,” he mutters as he loops both arms up and over Makoto’s shoulders.

“Well, it is a little bit of me.”

Haruka pulls back, arches a brow at him. “Makoto, your schedule’s far worse than mine.”

“Not with your practices and camps!”

Haruka rolls his eyes. “It’s swimming, Makoto. It’s hardly a hardship.”

“But still!” Haruka gives him a look, and Makoto laughs in surrender. “Fine, fine. But Haru,” he says, growing serious, “I mean it. I always want to be with Haru when we can. I don’t care about my schedule.”

Haruka’s eyes go wide, his face sets fire, and he has to look away again. “Me, too. Me, either,” he hastily corrects as the warmth in his cheeks intensifies, and Makoto softly laughs.

“Haru is flustered.”

“Shut up.” He goes to move away, but Makoto tightens an arm to hold him there, the other shifting so that he can touch a cheek and gently bring Haruka’s gaze back to his own.

“It’s cute,” he says, and with such affection in his voice and eyes that Haruka _can’t_ move away now, even though he’s more embarrassed than ever. But then Makoto kisses him, slow and deep, and everything’s lost to the sweet warmth of his mouth and tongue.

When they part, Makoto brushes another, briefer kiss over Haruka’s lips and then rests his head on top of Haruka’s, just breathing for a second or two before he moves away. “Go get your bath started. I’ll bring your things in for the basket.”

By the time Haruka has finished and comes out, Makoto has the apartment ready for the night, tells him he’ll be out in a few minutes, as he had the last time. Haruka smiles a bit when he sees that Makoto had taken extra care to make sure that Haruka’s clothes and bag would be ready for a quick change and grab in the morning, but as he slips into bed, he sobers, lightly worries his lip as his thoughts start to run. It really isn’t like him at all to throw the evening to the wind as he had, knowing he had work to do and an early morning ahead of him, just because Makoto had said something cute. Not that he regrets it, and he believes Makoto when Makoto had told him he always wants to be with him. Haruka feels the same way. But even so…

“Haru?” Haruka blinks, then tips his head toward Makoto as Makoto gets beneath the blanket. “Everything okay?”

“Ah.”

“But?” Makoto prods gently after he’s rolled onto his side and has propped his head on his arm.

Haruka is quiet for a second longer and then, “Does it seem too much? Wanting to be together all the time so badly? For having just started—going out? I guess?” He rolls his eyes because the term just feels awkward and weird—it’s _Makoto_ , for one, and for two, it seems so juvenile compared to what he _feels_ —but he doesn’t know what else to call it. And, apparently, Makoto feels the same, for how he giggles.

“Sorry, Haru-chan,” he says through the end of them. “It just…”

“It’s weird, right?”

“Mm. It seems it for us, anyway, but I guess that’s how most would say it?” He sobers a bit then. “As for what Haru asked, some people might think it’s a bit fast,” he admits. “But they don’t know us. Don’t know our history.” Makoto smiles again, warm and soft, his eyes taking on a thoughtful look. “Honestly, though, Haru, to me it’s like… it’s like we’re past all that. All the… I dunno, the dating angst we used to hear the guys in high school go on about. The _going out_ part,” he slips in as a tease. “I mean, we know each other so well, better than anyone, really. And we’ve been through so much together already, good and bad both, you know?” Makoto smiles a bit again. “Besides, Haru said we should just keep being us, and we’ve always spent most of our free time together. So really, it’s not any different than how it was before, right?”

Makoto is right, of course he is, and as he speaks, that bit of tension that had crept in while Haruka had waited for him eases away. By the time he’s done, Haruka almost feels foolish for having been worried about it in the first place, and he smiles a bit and nods against the pillow. “Makoto is smart,” he says softly as he holds those eyes, and his heart warms as he watches what his praise does to them. He reaches up, lightly touches a cheek. “It’s a _little_ different now, though,” he murmurs as he watches Makoto’s pretty lashes flutter closed with his touch before opening in question. “There’s more involved with spending time together now,” he explains, fingers continuing downward to lightly trace the edge of Makoto’s mouth as his gaze flickers down to it.

“Mm,” Makoto whispers as he dips his head in response to Haruka’s invitation, and Haruka’s hand slips back to thread through his hair as their lips meet. “I like the more,” Makoto murmurs when they part with scant distance between them several moments later, cheeks flushed in the low light of the bedside lamp and eyes softly lidded. “Being able to kiss and touch Haru; knowing you’re mine.”

Haruka’s body flushes with heat. He has no idea how Makoto can just _say_ the things he does, never has, and it doesn’t help that he looks so incredibly good, eyes hazed and cheeks pinked, lips still damp from their last kiss, but he can’t look away as he normally would. “Me too,” he manages, going warmer at the slightly breathless tone to his voice, and then Makoto breathes his name and kisses him again. They trade back and forth between their mouths. They’re more confident now after the weeks that have passed, but it doesn’t take away from how Makoto’s kisses make Haruka feel at _all,_ warm and eager, at once filled and wanting for more.

As if sensing it, Makoto pushes up and forward, hovering over Haruka, and Haruka’s breath comes more quickly when, with a light suck to his lower lip, Makoto breaks the kiss and then mouths along his jaw toward his ear, seeking out the spot he’d found the last time they’d laid together. Haruka’s breaths come faster, fingers lightly curling, but he can’t hold back the soft, _ah_ , that escapes when Makoto’s lips brush over that point, can’t stop his head from tilting back in askance for more of it.

Makoto’s tongue darts out to lightly lap at his skin and Haruka shivers; Makoto’s lips press again and then move down a bit, trailing to Haruka’s throat, and when Makoto’s lips part to place an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow, Haruka gasps, his hand flying up to thread through Makoto’s hair. Makoto doesn’t pull away to question though, not this time. He just continues to kiss and lick, eventually making his way to a point behind Haruka’s opposite ear that pulls another sound from him.

Haruka can’t think straight, caught between how good it feels and his imagination taunting him with thoughts of more, and Makoto’s confidence adds another layer to everything. “You’re not so shy now,” Haruka whispers after Makoto briefly kisses his lips again, and this time, Makoto does pull away, gives him a small smile.

“I’m trying,” he confesses, “It’s Haru, after all.” He brushes another kiss. “And I like making you feel good,” he murmurs against Haruka’s lips before pulling away again, cheeks and ears as red from his boldness as they’d been the night they’d confessed. Haruka expects him to go back to his neck, but Makoto shifts just a bit, placing a kiss over Haruka’s heart through his tee shirt and then glancing up at him as he lightly runs his thumb over Haruka’s right nipple. _Is it okay,_ those eyes ask him, _do you like it?_ And, trying to catch his breath from the unexpected pleasure of the slight friction, Haruka nods.

Still watching him, Makoto rubs his thumb a bit more firmly, lips slightly parted and eyes shading darker as Haruka’s nipple peaks beneath. Makoto shifts again and Haruka opens eyes that he hadn’t known had shut, realizes Makoto’s pulled the blanket back and his fingers are at the hem of his tee-shirt. “Can I?” Makoto asks on a breath, and Haruka nods again, feels his muscles jump in his abdomen as Makoto’s fingers lightly slip beneath to skate over them toward his chest. It’s an entirely different sensation when Makoto touches him there again, flesh on flesh; Haruka’s breath catches as Makoto teases the nipple to a harder peak and he pulls Makoto down into a deep, hungry kiss to stifle his noises, though he can’t stop the soft groan that escapes onto Makoto’s tongue anyway when Makoto’s fingers shift to toy with his left nipple. He hadn’t thought he could be more sensitive on one side than the other, but apparently, he is.

Haruka lets the pleasure rush through him, breaths panting across Makoto’s mouth when they part, and then he takes hold of Makoto’s arm. Makoto instantly stops and pulls back a bit further; Haruka doesn’t like how his worry that he’d done something wrong threatens the smokiness of his gaze, so he pulls him into a fast, hard kiss.

“Your turn,” he mumbles against Makoto’s mouth when they part. Makoto’s eyes go slightly wide as the pink in his cheeks grows deeper, but he slips his hand free from Haruka’s shirt as Haruka shifts beside him. The way he pushes back to settle takes Haruka’s mind to the fluid flex of muscles as Makoto pulls himself out of the pool, and before Makoto can lay down completely, Haruka stops him, lightly tugs at the sleeve of his shirt. “Take this off?” he asks, feeling the heat in his cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to that which flares in Makoto’s. “Makoto?”

“Ah, sorry,” he apologizes, and Haruka can tell how flustered he is by his tone, but Makoto tugs his shirt off anyway, lets it drop to the floor as he lays down—and then brings an arm up over his eyes.

Haruka’s briefly widen; he’s slightly caught off guard at the difference from a few seconds ago, but then his expression softens. Makoto’s never liked being the center of attention or feeling he’s on display; when he’s swimming, or preparing to, he’s focused on that more than himself, but otherwise, he’s the first to toss his jacket back on or put the attention onto someone else. He doesn’t know why; never really thought about it beyond recognizing it as _a truth about Makoto_ until just now.

After a second or two, Haruka decides that the why isn’t important right now; he just wants Makoto to relax, to at least look at him again. He briefly catches his lip between his teeth before deciding to take his shirt off as well, then he places a light hand to Makoto’s arm. “It’s okay, Makoto,” he soothes, “It’s just me.” Haruka dips his head to press a kiss to his forearm. “It’s just me.” Makoto moves his arm after another breath, shyness and apology in his eyes, but Haruka just smiles softly then dips his head down to kiss him.

When they part, Haruka shifts to curl into his side, resting his head on Makoto’s shoulder. He watches Makoto’s chest rise and fall, then lightly strokes his fingers beneath the cut of his pectorals, tips his head slightly to kiss his shoulder as he traces down his sternum. Haruka’s eyes lid softly as he finds the lines that delineate Makoto’s abdominals; even relaxed, even with no formal training, he’s still firm, defined, strong. Beautiful inside and out; people say it all the time, but Makoto, to Haruka, is the true definition of it.

“Feels good,” Makoto murmurs, and Haruka glances up; his eyes are closed, but his features are definitely more relaxed now.

“Good.” He leans up, presses a kiss to Makoto’s chest, then rests his cheek again, continues with his idle caressing, and a slight smile curves his lips when, at a point near Makoto’s left rib cage he jumps a bit and gives a soft giggle.

“That tickles Haru-chan!”

_Cute._ Haruka leans up to brush a kiss over Makoto’s mouth then settles back onto the mattress again. He could keep going, keep exploring, and a lot of him wants to, but he likes where they are now, too; Makoto relaxed again, sweetly smiling, bare torso against his with no hint of that earlier embarrassment.  
  
“Haru?”

“It’s fine. I just need to stop before I’m too worked up to sleep for practice tomorrow,” he mumbles as he turns his head to hide his reddened face. He really couldn’t care less about training right then, and he kind of wants to die for how embarrassed saying that makes him, but it’s alright. They’re both trying, stepping out of their comfort zones, and besides, for as infinitely patient as Makoto has been with him through even his most difficult times, for as many excuses as he’s made for Haruka for nearly as long, it’s the least he can do. And beyond that, there’s more than a little truth to it. 

“Mm.” There’s silence between them for a moment and then, “Maybe tomorrow, when we’re not so late to bed or have such an early morning?”

Haruka glances up in surprise, then smiles a bit when he finds himself looking at Makoto’s pinked ear as he busies himself turning out light. “Ah,” he murmurs as, once Makoto settles, he curls into side again, and he closes his eyes when he feels the press of Makoto’s lips to his hair, focuses on the soft sound of his heart to lull him into sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Morning comes sooner than Haruka would have liked. He’s extremely comfortable spooned into Makoto, and it felt like it had taken forever for him to fall asleep, between Makoto’s offer of more tonight and his curiosity over Makoto’s behavior. Part of him feels like he’s been a bad best friend for never having questioned Makoto’s reticence, but honestly, he’s always just loved and accepted Makoto as a whole, quirks included, as Makoto has him. And isn’t that how love’s supposed to be, he thinks? So he tries to let that one go, at least until the right opportunity comes, but then all that leaves are those shyly spoken words and the anticipation that he feels whenever he thinks about them. Which is a lot throughout the day. Haruka doesn’t see any point in denying that. But that’s how he’s always been with his obsessions.

Haruka doesn’t think for one second that Makoto had meant that they’d have sex tonight, and he’s glad for that. Not because he doesn’t want it. He does, and he can’t think of doing it with anyone else _but_ Makoto; hadn’t _ever_ thought about it until he’d realized what he truly feels for his best friend. But it’s such a big thing, a life-changing thing, that he still gets more anxious about it than excited when he does think about it. Never mind that he isn’t sure really _how_ to do it. Haruka huffs at himself and mentally rolls his eyes, Okay, so he knows the mechanics of it, and for as warm as his face feels, he _really_ needs to change his line of thought before—

“There. That’s done.”

_Damn it._ Haruka doesn’t know that he’s ever picked up a textbook this fast, but he manages it—and then quickly flips it the correct way around before Makoto’s stepped fully into the room. “I still say I could have helped you,” he mutters from behind it regarding the dishes, but Makoto just makes a negatory sound as he settles onto the floor beside him.

“I know you had stuff to catch up on between your camp and then not going home last night. Besides, you did so much cooking today! Thank you again, Haru, truly. I know I’m not as hopeless in the kitchen as I was, but I still have such a way to go before even getting close to doing the meals you did today.”

“It’s fine,” Haruka says honestly, and he lowers his book. “Besides, you know enough to feed yourself at least one cooked meal a day. If you _want_ to learn to do more, that’s fine. I’ll teach you. But don’t feel like you _have_ to learn. Because I don’t mind cooking for Makoto.”

“Haru.” Makoto presses a kiss to Haruka’s hair, then leans into him, resting their heads together. It’s nice, Haruka thinks as he closes his textbook and slips it onto the table. “I like when Haru cooks for me,” Makoto admits as Haruka pushes the table back with a foot so that he can shift, and they can lean together more comfortably. “But I like learning and working with Haru, too. So maybe we can keep doing both?”

“Ah. When we can,” Haruka amends, thinking of his upcoming schedule, and he shifts a bit more so he can nestle his head between Makoto’s shoulder and neck, lets his eyes slip closed with a quiet sigh. He _really_ doesn’t want to think about that.

“You have a lot coming at you, huh,” Makoto murmurs as he rests his cheek against Haruka’s head. “But I know Haru can do it. You’re going to take on the world and you’re going to be great. And we’ll just make as many days like today whenever we can so we can have lots of good memories to help us through the busier times.”

Haruka doesn’t know what has his heart skipping, if it’s Makoto’s unwavering confidence in him or the sweet perfection of his assurance, but either way, Makoto’s the source of it, and he loves him so, _so_ much for both. “I can do anything with Makoto with me,” he says, face on fire, but eyes honest, as he tips his head up—if Makoto can try and overcome his physical shyness then Haruka can his verbal, he thinks—and Makoto’s _Haru!_ comes against his lips as Haruka presses them to Makoto’s, because he can’t wait another second to kiss him.

It’s not their first of the day. That had been before he’d slipped out of bed for practice, Makoto catching him, sleepy and sweet. And he’d gotten his second when he’d come back to Makoto’s after—and then had lost count in the many they’d shared in between shopping and cooking and studying. But they’ve nothing left to do now save for be with each other, because Haruka is _done_ with his book work—and okay, he isn’t _technically_ , but the rest of it can wait, because once he goes back home tomorrow, they won’t have any true time together until some point around his _birthday_ , and that just sucks. 

Makoto breaks from the kiss slowly, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed; he looks so _good_ that all Haruka can think about is kissing him again, but then Makoto reaches out, lightly traces his lower lip, the green in his eyes growing darker. “You’re so beautiful, Haru,” he murmurs as his finger skates back along the path it had just taken, and Haruka feels his face get hotter, not so much from the words—though it’s a part of it—but because he realizes that he must appear the same as Makoto does to him, blushed, lips plumping, eyes wanting. And, for as gorgeous as it looks on Makoto, it’s hard to think of himself making such a face.

“You’re so embarrassing,” he breathes, kissing Makoto fast and hard before he can laugh or apologize. “And you are, too. Beautiful. Makoto is beautiful, too.” He pouts slightly and ducks his head into Makoto’s shoulder, hating how awkward he feels, how bad at this he is, because it should be easy. It’s Makoto and it’s the truth. But Makoto just kisses the top of his head, touches his cheek, draws his face up, and as soon as they’re kissing again, he forgets his discomfort.

This time when they part, Makoto kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, and then close to his ear before he brings their foreheads together. Haruka swallows softly as their breaths mingle together, and then he feels Makoto’s hand at the hem of his shirt. “Can we try it again?” Makoto asks, and Haruka opens his eyes and rolls them upward. Makoto’s are still closed, but there’s no tension in his expression and the pretty color in his cheeks hasn’t deepened and gone to his ears.

“Ah,” Haruka murmurs and he tips his head to brush a kiss to his mouth, then they straighten away from each other. Haruka stands, takes off his shirt as Makoto does, and then offers a hand to Makoto, who giggles a bit as he grabs it. Haruka rolls his eyes lightly in amusement, knowing that Makoto’s thinking of their reversal of positions, but then Makoto’s pulling himself up, muscles doing that unfairly hot bunch and flex; as soon as Makoto is on his feet, Haru steps into him, slides his hands up Makoto’s bare arms to those shoulders, tips his head back as they circle around to his blades and back. “Okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good,” Haruka murmurs and he kisses Makoto again, feels Makoto’s hands at his waist as his own slip forward and then along Makoto’s clavicles before coming to a natural rest when they encounter Makoto’s arms. “Lay down with me?” he asks against Makoto’s mouth. Makoto nods and Haruka steps back but comes in close again as soon as they’re on the bed. As he just softly kisses Makoto, he thinks again of all the times Makoto has been patient with him, letting him find his words, or finding the words in Haruka’s silences. All the times from their very first swim club to university in Tokyo that he’s gently, yet persistently, encouraged Haruka into things that not even Haruka had realized he’d wanted until he’d followed Makoto’s lead, and then had stood beside him as Haruka had found his way to make his space there. Not that Haruka has been passive by any means through the years. He's guided Makoto, too, through his fears , his uncertainties, holding his hand when he's known that Makoto has needed it, helping him find his way back, drawing him back to himself, to who Makoto really is, back to _Haruka_ , when he's been lost. They balance each other out, fill in each other's gaps, make each other whole. And he realizes now that it's always been like that. So yes, he can be patient, start over as many times as they need as they move through this new territory together .

There’s no hesitation in Makoto’s hands now, though, no timidity in his touches, one set of fingers lightly curling through Haru’s on the mattress, the other slipping over Haruka’s arm and then down to smooth over Haruka’s chest to his left nipple. Haruka’s breath catches when Makoto’s finger rubs over it, and then his face floods with color when, as Makoto gives it a gentle pinch and roll, a low groan is punched from his gut before he can stop it. “No fair,” he grumbles breathlessly, and Makoto laughs, soft and husky, the sound sending a low rush of warmth through him. Shifting a bit, Haruka gets his arm where he can reach most of Makoto’s torso, and as Makoto starts to kiss along his chin and jaw, his fingers start to explore. It’s not ideal, but Makoto’s happily occupied, which Haruka has _no_ complaint about, and his eyes squeeze in pleasure from Makoto’s kisses and touches.

Makoto. Right.

Tipping his head, Haruka nudges Makoto’s until Makoto lifts his mouth to Haruka’s again. Haruka briefly teases over his tongue and then lets Makoto have the kiss, strokes over the smooth, warm skin of Makoto’s chest. He finds a nipple and Makoto’s breath catches softly and then fades to a soft hum around Haruka’s tongue as he peaks it. He lingers there for a moment and then lets his fingers roam again. He can’t quite reach Makoto’s other nipple, so he traces his sternum down, strokes over his abdominal lines; that greed for Makoto surfaces and Haruka steals the kiss, fingers meeting the edge of Makoto’s navel as he tries sucking at Makoto’s tongue.

Makoto’s groan is extremely erotic and enough to break the kiss. It shoots heat through Haruka’s gut, his mouth goes slightly dry with it. He wonders what it was, or if it was a combination of both the kiss and the touch, and he pushes up just slightly to watch Makoto’s face as he strokes his fingers a bit lower and over the divot.

“Ah, Haru.”

Their mouths come together again, hungrier before, the kiss wetter, noisier; all Haruka can think of is _more_ , and he leaves Makoto’s mouth again, surges forward slightly to put Makoto onto his back and kiss a trail from his Adam’s apple downward. One goes over Makoto’s heart, a second to his sternum; he feels Makoto’s chest heaving softly, senses Makoto’s hand in his hair and he continues, fingers lightly stroking over Makoto’s ribs and flank as he dips his head just a bit lower to kiss at that sensitive spot on Makoto’s abdomen. Makoto’s hips jolt with it, Makoto gasping his pleasure; the slight arc of his pelvis briefly sends Makoto’s erection against him and want clutches even more strongly through Haruka’s gut. But then he realizes that Makoto’s frozen beneath him.

“Makoto.” He looks up, sees that Makoto’s arm is over his eyes like it had been last night, has a pretty good guess as to what’s caused the embarrassment to flare. Haruka licks his lips, presses a kiss slightly north of his navel then scoots up again. “Makoto.” Haruka puts a gentle hand to his arm but doesn’t force it; he waits for Makoto to lower it and to look at him. “It’s okay,” Haruka murmurs, his own embarrassment cooling the heat of his want a bit, but he pushes himself anyway. “I—me too,” he mumbles, shifting to lightly press himself against Makoto. 

Makoto’s eyes change again, briefly going wide before lidding softly again. “Haru.”

“So it’s fine, right? Embarrassing, a little,” he admits, because, well, it _is,_ “But just because it’s new. But we’re both… I mean—” And he wonders how they’re _ever_ going to get through sex when they’re ready for it if he can’t even say _hard_ and Makoto’s shyness surges every time they reach a more intimate point. “It’s what’s supposed to happen, right?” he finally manages once he has his face safely tucked into Makoto’s shoulder where Makoto can’t see it.

“Haru!” Makoto exclaims, but there’s a laugh, there, too, and Haruka can hear the smile in his soft, “Mm. Except I’m not so much anymore though,” he says a moment later, voice hushed.

Haruka smiles a bit against his neck. “Me either.”

“We can still lay here for a bit though?” Makoto asks, lightly running fingers through Haruka’s hair. “This is good too, right?”

“Very,” Haruka promises and then he presses a light kiss to Makoto’s lips, snuggles closer, closes his eyes. He’s comfortable, relaxed, they both are, and he smiles a bit again, presses an idle kiss to Makoto’s shoulder. If they can still be close like this, hold each other so easily, even after working through something so embarrassing to talk about, Haruka knows that they’ll be fine when it’s time, that they’ll get there.


	22. Chapter 22

“What’s with you?” Haruka blinks, looks over at Asahi. “It _National Mackerel Abstinence Day_ or something?”

Haruka rolls his eyes. “Like that even exists,” he retorts, and he tears off a bite of the filet he’d apparently been gazing at for a while, if its temperature and Asahi’s expression are anything to go by. Asahi has more to say, he can tell, but before he can…

“I thought I told you that I hated mackerel.” Haruka and Asahi blink at each other, and then turn to look behind them. “I'm telling you, what's good here Is the tanuki soba.” It’s the strange man that’s interjected himself into their conversations a couple of times before. 

“What are you? Some kind of cafeteria critic?” Asahi demands after a moment of shocked silence.

“Not really, but I do have my own blog.” Haruka turns back to his plate; he's reluctantly curious about this man who keeps butting into their lives, but not so much that he's willing to let his lunch get any colder. Besides, Asahi seems to be dealing with him just fine. “Hey,” the man suddenly says, and Haruka stiffens, instinctively knowing the guy’s turned his attention to him. “Didn't I ask you before why you only swam free?”

Haruka tenses further. He hasn't forgotten about the question, has rolled it over in his mind a few different times since it's been put to him, but he still doesn't have a real answer beyond _I just do_. He feels a hand to his shoulder then, and the man leans in, well into his personal space. “You still haven't figured it out have you. You know, you never will reach your potential until you do.” 

Haruka turns slightly, studies him for a moment. His eyes narrow. There's more to this guy than what he's letting on, and it's irritating, the way he keeps dropping bait, fishing for them to ask. ‘Who are you, anyway?’ he finally cedes, tired of the man’s games, even if it means giving him what he wants by showing his curiosity. The guy just goes on again about his blog and then walks away, leaving Asahi blustering and Haruka more confused and irritated than ever.

Before Haruka can even take another bite, their meal is interrupted again, this time by Asahi’s brother-in-law. Asahi makes the introduction and Haruka nods in response then turns his attention back to his meal—for all of a couple of seconds. It's Kon who finally tells them who the old guy really is; a former swimmer, top-tier and poised to take on the global stage, and from Iwatobi of all places. He abruptly quit one day, Kon tells them, but then made a name for himself as a coach overseas before coming back to Japan. Haruka's brow furrows slightly as he turns back to his meal. The man’s—Azuma’s—interest and commentary make more sense, now. But Haruka still can’t answer his question.

_Why **do** I only swim free? _

The question sticks with Haruka through the afternoon, through practice, through the trip home; distracts him from his homework. After about an hour, he gives up with a huff, decides he'll go watch Makoto work with the kids for a little bit. If nothing else, maybe telling Makoto what they had found out about the stranger will clear his mind some; at least enough to let him get some work done.

Haruka walks to the Community Center, clears his way into the aquaplex, catches Makoto's eyes when he can. Makoto’s smile lights his face as it always does when he sees him; Haruka’s warms as he takes a seat on the spectator’s bench, but he already feels less tangled, just as _he_ always does when he’s with Makoto-- and even more so when he's with Makoto and the water as he is now. A smile forms as he watches Makoto work with the kids. They love him, it's easy to see; just as easy as it is to see how well-suited Makoto is to the work. They're having fun, Makoto included, but the kids respect him, too. And Makoto never loses control of the session, no matter how boisterous it gets. The kids are learning, Makoto is teaching, and they are all loving it. Haruka doesn't think he could ever tire of watching.

Eventually, Makoto dismisses his class and herds them all into the locker room. When he comes back out, he’s changed out of his wet suit and into the casual polo shirt and track pants the staff wear in between sessions. “Hi,” Makoto greets as he settles beside him. “This is a surprise. Is everything okay?” he asks as he tilts his head slightly and studies Haruka’s eyes.

“It's fine,” Haruka assures, and then, “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Makoto laughs softly. “Okay, that's fair. I know I always want to see Haru. But?” he prods after another second.

Haruka gives a pretense of a huff at having been so easily read, but he's not truly annoyed, and judging from Makoto's giggle, Makoto knows that. “It's just been a long day,” he says quietly. “And I couldn't settle into anything once I got home. Not anything that I should have been focusing on, anyway,” he corrects with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Ikuya?” Makoto asks, gentle concern in his eyes, and Haruka tips his head from side to side.

“In part. Asahi and I talked again today, and we still can't figure out what Nao-senpai meant, never mind how to find Ikuya to talk to him alone. But more than that, remember that old guy? The one from the welcome tournament, and then the cafeteria the day we went to Shimo?” Makoto’s brow furrows slightly as he nods. “Well, turns out he's a former competitive swimmer, and not some sort of stalker or food critic—though he does have a blog,” he adds dryly, recalling the man's comment.

“Nanase-san!” Makoto and Haruka both look up, and then shift a little bit further apart, when Misaki comes hurrying toward the bench. Haruka has to smirk a bit, when, with an arched brow from Makoto, Misaki slows his rush to a walk. “Hi!” Misaki greets with a slight bow when he stops in front of them. Haruka returns the greeting with a tip of his chin, and then arches _his_ brow slightly when Misaki settles on the bench between him and Makoto. “Are you swimming today?” he asks with an excited shine to his eyes, and Makoto looks over Misaki's head, meets Haruka’s gaze with a silent chuckle.

“Haru just dropped by to tell me about a mutual acquaintance,” Makoto tells Misaki, and then, to Haruka, “He really has a food blog?”

“Ah.” Haruka pulls up the page that he’d bookmarked, shows it to Makoto, who then passes the phone off to Misaki, probably in the hopes of distracting him long enough that they can continue their conversation, Haruka figures.

“So, former swimmer with a food blog ... Coaching now?” Makoto asks over Misaki’s murmured comments about the photos. He chuckles at Haruka’s surprise. “It's the only thing I could think of as to why he'd be at the competition and the cafeteria,” Makoto admits.

“Ah,” Haruka confirms, and his brow furrows slightly as Azuma’s question floats through his head again.

“Haru?”

“He's asked me a couple of times why I only swim free, and I keep asking myself the same. No matter how many times I think about it, I really can't come up with an answer, other than I always just have.”

“Maybe you should just swim something else.”

Misaki's words punch through Haruka’s confusion like the shock from a dive into a cold pool. Suddenly, everything is clear, both in how to get his answer, and in how to get to Ikuya. He meets Makoto’s eyes over the boy's head again, sees that Makoto had been just as affected by the simplicity of Misaki's answer. He smiles a bit. “I have an idea,” he says, and then, when he sees Makoto’s curiosity, “Let me figure out a couple of things, and then I'll tell you? Even if it doesn't work out,” he promises, and Makoto smiles a bit and nods.

“Mm.” Makoto’s phone alarm goes off, and, as Misaki cheers and—after handing Haruka’s phone back—heads back to the pool for the last youth open swim, his smile shifts. “I’ve got to go,” he says softly, and Haruka’s heart flutters slightly because he knows that the reluctance he sees and hears has nothing to do with going back to work and everything to do with leaving him; that he and Makoto are thinking the same. It'll be Wednesday before they see each other again, and only for morning swim at that.

“I know,” he says just as quietly, and suddenly he's thinking that coming to see Makoto hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Sure, he’s found a potential solution to both of the issues that had been plaguing him before he'd come, but now he's faced with another; having to say goodbye and being content with the light, discreet, touch to the back of his hand versus the kiss that he knows both of them are longing for.


	23. Chapter 23

Haruka tries not to be impatient as he waits outside Naribusawa’s main entrance. Not that he really has a reason to be, other than his own desire to get what promises to be a very awkward conversation out of the way as soon as possible. He'd not been given a specific time to meet Azuma Ryuuji; he’d not even been given a promise that Azuma would use this gate to exit—if he hasn’t already left the campus. All Kon had been able to tell him when Asahi had gotten hold of his brother-in-law after morning practice was that Azuma had been planning on making Naribusawa University his last stop for the day.

Haruka grimaces slightly when he thinks about that conversation. Both of them, actually, he mentally corrects as he recalls talking to Asahi about calling Kon in the first place—though they had been uncomfortable for different reasons. Asahi, of course, had wanted to know why Haruka wanted to talk to Kon, and then why he would even _want_ to talk Azuma. Not that it had been any big secret; Asahi—if Azuma says yes—would find out at their next practice anyway, when Haruka’s routine changed. Besides, it would have been rude to hold that information from him after asking him for the favor. But Haruka’s plan is a fragile one, all of it hinging on the response of an odd, and unpredictable, stranger. And Haruka usually likes to have things concrete in his mind before he speaks of them.

After demanding rather loudly if Haruka was crazy, Asahi had grinned and had told him that, if anyone could reach the level of skill needed to swim in Ikuya’s IM heat in what time they had, he felt it was Haruka. It had warmed Haruka as much as it had embarrassed him. Even as that brash and hot-headed little boy, Asahi had always put his bonds before himself. And that has not changed about him. From that very first day they'd run into each other on campus, Asahi has been eager to swim with Haruka again, supportive of Haruka's pursuits, but never once has he been petty or jealous because of the extra competition Haruka brings to one of Asahi’s preferred strokes. He is kind, trustworthy, real. And, out of all the coincidences that have happened to Haruka since coming to Tokyo, Haruka knows that he’s gladdest for this one. 

Talking to Kon had been harder; Haruka rarely asks anything from those closest to him, never mind a favor from a virtual stranger. Yet, here he is, waiting to do so again, he thinks with a touch of irritation. And he doesn't know why he feels that way; if it's because of what he has to do, or the fact that he's still so awkward when it comes to people outside of his small circle that the thought of dealing with them makes him feel irritated. After the time he's been in Tokyo, one would have thought he'd at least have started stepping past that.

_It's not even been three months. You'll get there_. _Besides, you **are** improving. After all, you're here, aren't you? _

And Haruka smiles, even as he lightly rolls his eyes. The bit of self-assurance had sounded remarkably like Makoto’s voice echoing through his head. The only thing that had been missing had been the _Haru-chan._

“What are you doing here?”

Haruka turns abruptly upon hearing Azuma’s voice. “I wanted to talk to you,” he replies without preamble, Azuma’s sudden appearance and demand half-startling it out of him. “Kurimiya-san told me that I might catch you here. I want you to work with me on the other strokes so that I can take part in the IM in the intercollegiate races,” he continues in response to the _why_ Azuma asks through an arched brow. “You told me to figure out why I only swim free. I thought swimming something different might help. With the IM, I can swim all four; it seems the quickest way to get my answer.

“Interesting,” Azuma hums, and then his lip curls slightly. “And?” Confusion furrows Haruka's brow, and Azuma rolls his eyes. “Come on, kid. If swimming the different strokes will be enough to give you your answer, then you’d just swim them. And if you can't, which I very much doubt, you have friends that would help. Kurimiya’s nephew, he does butterfly. Your friend Tachibana does back. Your sixth place in Nationals came back to me when Kurimiya told me who you were,” he explains when Haruka can't hide his surprise that he had known about Makoto. “But that's irrelevant. My point is, there is more that you want out of this than finding the answer to my little question, or you wouldn't be asking _me_ to train you, never mind up to competing in an IM at an intercollegiate championship level.”

Haruka is partially annoyed over Asuma having read his intent so clearly, but he is also impressed by his astuteness and straightforwardness. So maybe it's because Azuma reminds him a little of himself, he thinks with some dry amusement in regard to his irritation. “There's someone I want to swim against,” he admits, and a flash runs through Azuma's eyes. Haruka wonders what that's about, but it disappears as quickly as it had come.

“Who?” Azuma’s brow arches again when Haruka doesn't answer right away. “No deal if you don't share, kid. That race is right around the corner, and I'm not the type to dump time and effort into a losing venture.”

That’s fair.

“Kirishima Ikuya.”

Azuma’s lips slowly curl again, and Haruka is given the distinct impression that Azuma had known exactly who he'd been going to say. “Interesting,” Azuma repeats, and then he nods. “Fine. Unofficially,” he warns. “I'm not going to school with you, or to any team-related trainings. But fine. I'll get you there. You headed to the pool now?” he asks, and Haruka nods, though he really hadn't been. He'd skipped out on a study session to get there tonight and going to the pool instead of catching up means a late night ahead, with early swim with Makoto in the morning. But he can't bring himself to say no, to give Azuma any reason to doubt his seriousness. Besides, it's an opportunity to see Makoto. And, while Haruka really would have liked to have told Makoto his plan before just showing up there with Azuma, seeing Makoto is always worth a little extra work on the backside.

Azuma tells Haruka he’ll meet him at the center, and the two of them temporarily part ways. Haruka isn't sure what to think about everything now that it's all said and done. It had gone easier than he'd anticipated, but he's found that to be true with most conversations. He doesn't like to talk, so he always works them up to be more than what they really end up being. And he knows it isn't going to be easy. Azuma had been correct. The race truly _is_ just around the corner, and Haruka knows that he has sacrificed pretty much whatever free time he has to this. Another reason why he wishes he could have spoken to Makoto before dropping it on him like this, but if anybody is going to understand his motive, Makoto will.

And then there's the comment Azuma had made about not putting time and effort into a losing venture.

Even after finding out who Haruka wants to swim against, Azuma had accepted his request. And it's an odd feeling, Haruka thinks, knowing that this man, who has observed and coached all over the world, feels that Haruka has enough talent to take on something like this. Especially since they haven’t discussed pay. Haruka knows that he's gifted in the water. He doesn't like to talk about it, or really even think about it, because—to him—it's only _about_ the water. But he's not oblivious, either. That said, he's never considered himself quite _that_ gifted. And there is a piece of him that's excited about his potential. Even if he never sees Azuma Ryuuji after this, that someone with Azuma’s reputation and experience finds Haruka worthwhile enough to work with is still a serious boost to his confidence.

Haruka has just enough time to drop his books off at home before walking over to the community center. Azuma shows up just a couple minutes past the time they’d agreed on; tells Haruka he’ll meet him beside the pool. By the time Haruka finishes changing, Azuma is already with Makoto, who's asked him what he's doing there. “I've asked him to coach me,” Haruka explains as he comes up to them.

“Not officially,” Azuma interjects before Haruka can do anything more than register Makoto’s surprise, “I've already told him I won't be going to school with him. This is just a short term, private lesson of sorts.”

“Coach?” Makoto echoes belatedly and then he looks at Haruka with concern. “Haru, Azuma-san’s coached around the world; can your budget handle this?”

It’s a little embarrassing, not only the question, but having it asked in a very public setting. Haruka can't be angry about it, though. This has just been sprung on Makoto, and Haruka knows how his best friend’s mind works. He knows that Makoto’s thoughts are going 160 kilometers an hour round and round in his head, and that he usually blurts out what he sees is the most immediate concern as he tries to process. Which, in this case, is a valid one. Haruka has no idea how much Azuma will charge, whether it will be per hour, or session, or for the whole deal; Makoto just wants to make sure it's something that Haruka can handle before Haruka commits to it further. 

“I'm not worried about that,” Azuma says with a handwave, and Haruka is as surprised as Makoto to hear that. “You can buy me dinner or something after.” Azuma smirks. “Just not mackerel.”

Haruka mentally rolls his eyes even as he nods. “Let's just get started,” Haruka encourages, and he's glad when Azuma agrees. He does want to talk to Makoto more, but there isn’t time to do it properly, and this will give Makoto a little time to clear his mind before his final session. He gives Makoto another look, silently promising to fill him in later, and then he and Azuma head to the far lanes to start his training.

By the time Azuma is finished with him, Haruka is sore in places he's not used to being, but it's worth it. He can sense an improvement already, and while Azuma doesn't compliment him, he makes no comment to the negative, so Haruka figures he’s pleased as well. While they wait for Makoto to finish up, they build a training schedule around his classes and team training. “What about here?” Azuma asks, pointing to the upcoming Saturday, and Haruka shakes his head. “I can’t cancel or move what’s on that day,” he says, and Azuma arches a brow, but nods, and they move on to the next week. It will be tight, but after tonight, Haruka is confident that they can make the deadline for him to trial for his coach and for his coach to register him for the IM.

They walk out together, the three of them, and after saying goodbye to Azuma, he and Makoto turn to take the cut through the park. “You surprised me tonight, Haru-chan,” Makoto says pensively. “I never would have thought you’d suggest that sort of practice.”

“I know. But it’s for Ikuya.”

“I figured,” Makoto says with a smile. “And it's a good idea. If anyone can get up to speed in time, it's Haru. Plus, maybe swimming the different strokes will help you figure out the answer to your question.”

“Ah,” Haru affirms softly, smiling a bit because he’d known that Makoto would understand. But even so, “I'm sorry I didn't get to tell you before we just showed up. I only spoke to him earlier this evening. I didn't anticipate he'd want to start right away.” He pauses for a moment. “And I'm sorry in advance for the lack of time I'll have between now and the tournament,” he says quietly.

“Don't be sorry for either, Haru!” Makoto says earnestly. “I know you didn't keep your plan from me deliberately. As for the extra time, I kind of figured that, too, once I put two and two together. Nobody beats Haru in the water, and Azuma-san seems like a good coach, but that's three extra strokes to perfect the best you can, and in time for your coach to trial you and get you turned in for the tournament. You have your work cut out for you.”

Haruka briefly catches Makoto’s hand, lightly squeezes it. “Thank you, Makoto.” He glances up sidelong at his best friend. “I did keep this Saturday free.” Makoto had asked him to a while back as, between his schedule and Makoto’s, it was the only day close to Haruka’s birthday that they would have together.

Makoto’s smile lights his face. “I'm so glad!” he exclaims softly. “It still makes me sad to think that, for the first time ever, I won't be with Haru on his birthday for even a little bit,” he admits, “But it's part of growing up, I guess. I'm just glad we were able to find one day where I could spoil Haru some.”

“Makoto spoils me every day,” Haruka says quietly, busying himself with his lock to hide his heated face, but then he stops, blinks, and looks up at Makoto again. “Makoto.”

Makoto colors as well, sheepishly scratches his cheek. “I… well, there’s still fifteen minutes before the next train runs, and I know it’s not a _ton_ of time, but I thought it’d be enough to give you a proper kiss goodnight?” The last few words come out a bit rushed and end on a question, but Haruka figures them out, and he pinks again, shakes his head slightly.

“Idiot,” he mutters in pure affection, and he grabs Makoto’s hand after sliding open the door and tugs him into the genkan. “You'll have to run,” Haruka says, even as he slides his hands up Makoto’s arms to find the back of his neck.

“I know,” Makoto says softly, “But it will be worth it.” He takes Haruka’s waist, pulls him in close, and their mouths meet, a soft brush of lips, followed by a slow, deep, kiss that leaves them both breathless when they part. “G’night, Haru-chan,” Makoto murmurs, briefly bringing their foreheads together. “See you in the morning for swim.” And then he’s gone, promising to text once he’s home, and Haruka doesn’t know that he’s ever been so eager for a week to go and a Saturday to get there.


	24. Chapter 24

_Haru, I got here early; can I let myself in?_

Haruka softly swears; quickly sends a _yes_ in response to the message that had been sent over half an hour ago.

“Haru?”

“It’s nothing,” Haruka assures Asahi, and in the grand scheme of things, it isn’t. Just like Haruka knows that, this time, it isn’t fully his fault that he’d missed Makoto’s text. He’d had no way of knowing that the coach would call a quick meeting after practice—the one commitment he’d had today, outside of spending the rest of it with Makoto. That said, if he would’ve looked at his phone right away, as he’s been trying to get into the habit of doing, the message wouldn’t have sat quite so long. And he knows Makoto. Despite having given each other duplicate keys back in April, Makoto’s text hadn’t been just a formality. Makoto would have waited outside his door until he heard back from Haruka. Which is amusing, given the way that he used to just come into the house in Iwatobi. Haruka makes a mental note to talk to Makoto about that; to give him that same blanket consent to walk in.

“’kay. See you Monday for the bus, then,” Asahi calls with a wave, which Haruka returns. Monday. Their first two-night training camp, and the start of the final push toward the intercollegiate races—and, after that, the All-Japan. Haruka is a bit anxious and excited, both. He’d be foolish to not be. But trying to get his head around everything coming toward him is annoying and exhausting, so he doesn’t waste time on it. He knows he’ll be fine once he’s actually working through the rush versus thinking about it. Besides, for the next two days, he has something more important to focus on.

Haruka has no idea what Makoto has planned for today, but he's looking forward to it. He’ll admit that’s mainly because he knows that, whatever it is, they will be doing it together. But Makoto is caring, thoughtful, and knows him better than anyone. Whatever he has planned, Haruka knows that it will be something that he’ll enjoy.

As Haruka climbs the stairs to his apartment, he feels a flicker of anticipation. Makoto’s gentle, joyful, _Okaeri, Haru,_ greets him as he slides open the door, and his heart leaps with it.

“Tadaima,” he returns as he closes the door and, after taking off his shoes, he pads in to join Makoto, who’s busy with Haruka’s bedding. “What are you doing?” he asks, curiosity taking precedence over the apology he'd been intending to make for having missed his text…and had Makoto brought extra pillows with him?

“Well, I thought that, if it was okay with Haru, we could just stay in today,” Makoto says as he futzes with the pillows and blankets. “I know it's not the most exciting plan, but I also know that, come Monday, you’ll be gone more than you’re home for a while, and I thought that the downtime, just the two of us, might be nicer than going out. You know, just be lazy, watch movies or play games, and I have good snacks in the fridge. We can get pizza for dinner, too, or anything Haru wants…”

Haruka’s gaze goes soft as Makoto rambles, and he moves up behind him, places a hand on his shoulder. “Makoto.” He waits until Makoto turns, and then he smiles at him. “It's perfect,” Haruka tells him, and it really is. All he’d wanted was to spend the day with Makoto, and creating their own little world within his apartment sounds just perfect compared to the travel, chaos, and people he's going to have to deal with over the next little while. “It's perfect,” he repeats, and he tips his head to press a kiss to Makoto's lips.

“Yeah?” Makoto breathes when they part, arms coming up loosely around Haruka’s waist. He grins softly. “I'm so glad. And that doesn't mean there aren't birthday surprises,” he playfully warns, bringing a smile to Haruka’s lips. Makoto kisses him again and then lightly squeezes him. “Go in for your bath,” he encourages. “I refreshed the water and put the warmer on soon as I let myself in; everything's ready for you.”

Haruka feels a little prickle of guilt when he recalls his delayed response. “Sorry I didn’t answer right away,”, he apologizes. “Coach called a quick meeting after practice and then I didn't think to look at my phone until I was about ready to walk out.”

“It's okay, Haru, truly,” Makoto assures. “Now go on.”

“Ah. But, Makoto.”

“Mm?”

“Makoto can let himself in whenever he likes. You don’t need my permission. I mean, Tokyo is home now, right? Just because the location’s changed doesn’t mean the rules have.”

“Haru. Mm,” Makoto softly voices, and then, “It’s the same for Haru, too. You can come into my place whenever you want.”

After another light kiss, Haruka heads into the bathroom. There is a new towel set waiting for him, and a new pair of track pants; both are the same brand, and color, that he's been buying for years, and he smiles as he undresses. Makoto had obviously been thinking about this for a while, and had enlisted his mom's help; either that, or he had purchased the towels clear back during Golden Week. Haruka knows, because he's only ever been able to find the exact ones he likes in the small department store in Iwatobi. One of Makoto's old, faded tee-shirts is in the basket as well, and there is a cute little orca toy floating in the tub with his dolphin. Haruka’s smile widens and his heart warms. Makoto truly is spoiling him, and he’d be lying to say he can't wait to see what else the day holds. 

By the time Haruka is finished with his bath, Makoto seems to have the main room set to his liking. The curtain is closed, but the window is open just enough to let in an enjoyable breeze; there are light snacks and a pitcher of what Haruka knows is his favorite iced tea on the low table, easily in reach of the bed, and the bed itself… the bed looks _extremely_ cozy, reminiscent of the little blanket fort nests they’d built, and had spent hours in, as boys. He can’t wait to spend the day curled up with Makoto in it, absolutely nothing to think about, to worry about, except for themselves, until Makoto has to go home tomorrow. Without a word about this between them, Makoto has managed to give him exactly what he needed, what he’d wanted but hadn't really realized, and Haruka discreetly swallows against the slight tightness in his throat.

He loves him so, _so_ much.

“Haru?”

Haruka swallows lightly again, shakes his head to dispel the bit of worry in Makoto’s voice “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Because I—”

Haruka cuts Makoto off from saying anything further by tugging him down into a sudden kiss. He takes his time with Makoto’s mouth, teasing his lips, stroking over and then sucking his tongue, slowly exploring every surface as if it's the first time, and when he pulls back, he brings their foreheads together. “I love it,” he assures, and then softly, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Makoto returns in a voice that causes Haruka’s stomach to flip. and then Makoto pulls him close to return the favor, practically devouring him before he drops his mouth to Haruka’s neck, hands sliding up beneath the back of Haruka’s loose tee shirt. Haruka tips his head back for him, breaths coming soft and fast, and he unsuccessfully tries to bite back a groan as the slight shift in his posture brings their hips together. Makoto looses a similar sound against Haruka’s pulse point, hands sliding down to Haruka’s waist and…

… and Haruka doesn’t get a chance to find out.

An alert sounds from Makoto’s laptop; Makoto pulls back like he’s been shocked, and then he drops his head to Haruka’s shoulder with a groan. “Nagisa and Rei wanted to Skype in for your birthday and I completely forgot,” he explains before Haruka can ask, and Haruka blinks, lips curving up slightly, as Makoto steps back. He's surprised by the plan, and admittedly disappointed by the interruption, but a large part of him is also pleased that he had managed to distract Makoto—who rarely forgets _any_ appointment, and especially one with friends— from something so important. It makes him feel good knowing that he's as big of a distraction to Makoto as Makoto is to him.

“Oh, don’t took so pleased with yourself, Haru,” Makoto pouts, face red, as he easily reads him. “Thank goodness that was just my alarm or that could have been really embarrassing!” Haruka’s teeth flash, he can’t hold back his amusement; something flares in Makoto’s eyes at the unbridled show and then Makoto is kissing him again, hard and hungry. “You drive me crazy, you know?” he mutters against Haruka’s mouth before laying a line of kisses to his ear, “I swear you could make me forget my _name_.”

His teeth tease at Haruka’s lobe and Haruka softly groans at the new sensation, but then the computer sounds again, a ring this time versus an alarm, and he grips Makoto’s shoulders. “You should answer that,” he mumbles against Makoto’s ear in turn, making note of the shiver it earns him.

Makoto groans, a different sort, as his head lightly thunks against Haruka’s. “Yeah, I know.” He gives Haruka a light squeeze and then lets go, heads over to his computer.

“Mako-chan!” Haruka hears after another second, and then, “Are you alright?” Haruka can’t help his snicker and he just flashes Makoto another grin in response to Makoto’s quick glare.

“I’m fine, Nagisa,” Makoto quickly assures, “I just got busy with something and lost track of the time.” Haruka laughs to himself; leave it to Makoto to manage to avoid lying to their friends without sharing a bit of the truth.

“Getting things around for the day?”

“Mm.”

“Is Haru-chan still in the bath?”

“No, he’s—”

“Haru-chan!” Nagisa exclaims when, feeling composed enough now to go help his boyfriend, Haruka slips into the webcam’s view with Makoto. He can see Nagisa now, too; bright, sunny, smiling, and a soft ache makes itself felt in his heart.

“I’m here. Hi, Nagisa.”

“Hi! Rei-chan!” Nagisa calls out after the greeting, “Rei—”

“I’m here!” Rei comes into the viewer then, bearing drinks for the two of them, and Haruka feels that ache again. They’ve talked since leaving Iwatobi, the four of them, but always on the phone, and either passing it back and forth, or someone talking from the background. It's never been like _this_ , seeing their faces, all of them together. He’d had no idea how much he’s missed them until this moment. 

Haruka feels a soft, discreet touch to his hand and he glances up. He sees Makoto’s gentle smile, knows that Makoto knows, _feels,_ what he's feeling. “Honestly, Nagisa-kun, you should give someone time to answer your first shout before giving a second!” Rei goes on to chastise before giving a warm smile to the camera. “Hello, Haruka-senpai, Makoto-senpai. It’s good to see you both again!”

The four of them talk back and forth about myriad things; Iwatobi, Tokyo, swimming. They learn about the new members of the Iwatobi High School team, Haruka and Makoto tell them about some of their classes and new acquaintances. Makoto talks about his job, Haruka about his schedule, Nagisa and Rei about their preliminary college plans. It’s pleasant, a more mature version of their rooftop high school conversations, but beneath it all, Haruka feels a growing discomfort.

Everything they’ve shared with Nagisa and Rei is inconsequential compared to the one thing they haven’t: that he and Makoto are together now. They’re talking to two of their most important people, and neither have any idea. He and Makoto had felt that it would be too impersonal to tell Nagisa or Rei over text or by phone, but this is different, isn't it? They can see facial expressions, they can be told at the same time; it’s near as good as in person, right?

The longer Haruka thinks about it, the more convinced he is that letting the moment pass would be wrong, despite their original intentions. After another moment or two, he discreetly moves his hand and takes Makoto's, threads their fingers together. He's caught Makoto off-guard; he can hear it in the way Makoto's voice hitches. Makoto finishes his thought, then turns and glances at him, surprise, but of a pleasant sort, in his eyes. They silently assure each other that they are on the same page, and with a small smile, Haruka squeezes Makoto's hand.

“Makoto-senpai?”

Makoto starts slightly at the call of his name, turns his gaze back to the computer. “Ah, mm?”

“Are you alright?” Rei asks, concern and confusion in his eyes.

“Yeah, Mako-chan, you totally faded out there for a minute,” Nagisa chimes in.

“Ah, sorry, sorry! Yes, I'm good,” Makoto says, and then he pauses for a second, swallows slightly and then smiles a bit, pushing past the anxiety Haruka can sense and feel from him. “Actually, I've never been better,” he continues softly. He briefly returns his gaze to Haruka’s before looking back at the computer. “You see, um…” He chuckles lightly and, color rising into his ears, Makoto lifts their conjoined hands so that Nagisa and Rei can see them. Their jaws drop, Makoto’s fingers tighten further through Haruka’s, and then Nagisa brings his hands up over his mouth as tears shimmer in his eyes.

“Nagisa,” Haruka calls quietly, his own stomach flipping with nerves, but then Nagisa shakes his head with a teary laugh and takes a swipe at his eyes.

“I'm just so happy! Mako-chan, Haru-chan! I thought, well I’ve thought forever that, maybe...” He laughs again, then gives them a brilliant grin. “Haru-chan got the best birthday present ever!”

They all laugh a bit at that, and some of the anxiety eases—from both of them, Haruka can tell.

“I did,” he agrees simply, glancing over at Makoto when he hears a soft sniff beside him, and then back at the monitor when Nagisa laughs softly; Rei has his glasses off and is wiping at his eyes as well, the softest of smiles on his lips.

“So the two of you, you're really okay with this, then?” Makoto asks earnestly, and Haruka can’t blame him. It’s a huge thing they’ve shared, and something like this has torn even families apart. “With us?”

“Mako-chan! Of course we are! Two of our favorite people have found their happiness with each other; how could we not be?” Nagisa says with an earnestness that brings a lump to Haruka’s throat and causes Makoto to sniffle again. “Besides, it’s always been Mako-chan and Haru-chan; it seems wrong that it could ever be anything else.”

“Nagisa-kun is right,” Rei says quietly. “You and Haruka-senpai are so important to us both. And love is love. Makoto-senpai, Haruka-senpai, what you found in each other,” Rei smiles softly again. “It's truly beautiful.”

Haruka smiles to himself as the last of his tension fades and Nagisa begins bombarding them with questions about confessions and where and when. He agrees with Rei. It truly is.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Haru's early birthday celebration continues, and these sweet, shy boys finally earn their 'M' rating!

The rest of the day goes by so quickly, it seems. It’s frustrating, when Haruka lets himself think about it; when he thinks about how the days that he wishes would fly by seem to drag in comparison. But he doesn’t think about it often. The day, the time with Makoto, is too precious to spend any of it in his head.

Once their call with Nagisa and Rei had ended, they’d gotten into the snacks Makoto had brought and had gamed for a while, alternating between their favorite underwater world building game and a new racing game with funny little creatures as the avatars which Makoto had found for Haruka’s birthday. The two of them had just been too emotionally charged after speaking with Nagisa and Rei to settle into a movie right away. Haruka hadn't realized how much the thought of how their loved ones might react to the change in their relationship had been weighing on both of them, and they’d both been so, _so_ happy with how Nagisa & Rei had reacted. Family and friends included, they don't have a large inner circle, and Nagisa and Rei had given them hope that telling the few others might go well, too.

By the time they’d decided to call it quits on the games, it had been more an early dinner time than anywhere near lunch. They’d ordered in pizza from that same place where Makoto had found Haruka’s favorite so long ago; when it had gotten there, they had settled on the bed, boxes between them, and had turned on one of the movies. They'd started with a couple of new ones, but then had returned to their old favorites, and now, several hours later, they are nearing the end of yet another. Not that Haruka is paying much attention to it. Makoto’s neck, cheek and hair are far more interesting than some movie he’s seen countless times—though he knows the same could be said for how often he’s seen Makoto.

But it’s not the same at all

The difference is that _Makoto is his boyfriend_ _now_. And Haruka has never been this close for this long in the light, has never been able to see the faint freckling of his cheek, or indulge in the soft fragrance of his hair, or taste the smooth skin at his neck. Not that Makoto is paying any more attention to the movie than he is, apparently, given how Makoto’s head tilts to the side to make room for Haruka’s neck kisses, how his breath shudders at a particularly low one by his collarbone, how—with lidded eyes and pinked cheeks—Makoto turns enough when Haruka raises his head to capture his mouth in a deep, wanting kiss. It takes Haruka’s breath away, makes him warm through and through. It does every time Makoto kisses him, whether it’s sweet and shy, or a deeper, longer, more intimate kiss like this, with languid sweeps and sucks of tongue that pull the most embarrassing sounds out of him even as Makoto’s are dropped into his mouth in turn.

Makoto is an _incredible_ kisser. Haruka doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a single other to compare him to.

Makoto’s hand is under his shirt again, fingers leaving goosebumps of excitement over his back. Makoto’s touch is amazing, and his lack of hesitance makes it even more intoxicating. It's a different sort of thrill, Haruka dazedly thinks as Makoto kisses along his jaw, that he, _he_ , can elicit such want and lack of abandon from this sweet, shy, boy. Especially since Makoto has seen him at his absolute worst, at his coldest and most withdrawn.

“Haru,” Makoto breathes against his ear, fingers lightly tugging at the hem of his shirt. Haruka nods against him, eases back, tugs his shirt off over his head. Makoto does the same, and then takes his mouth again, hand running up Haruka’s spine and then back down to rest at his waist as Makoto shifts toward him. Haruka lightly tugs at Makoto’s lower lip with his teeth and then steals the kiss as he moves with Makoto until they're both laying down, Makoto slightly over him.

Breaking from the kiss, Makoto kisses at his jaw again before moving to kiss and tease at the hollow of Haruka’s throat. Haruka’s hands greedily touch Makoto wherever he can reach, and somewhere in his mind he realizes that the movie is over, because the only noises in his apartment are coming from them; their rapid breaths, the soft, wet sounds of Makoto’s mouth moving over his flesh, the low, pleasured noises from them both that fall in between. And it’s just too hot for Haruka to be embarrassed by it. No, it just makes him harder, more wanting, and he clutches at Makoto’s shoulders, mouth going dry at the sensation of their flex beneath his hands as Makoto shifts again, and then drier when Haruka realizes where Makoto is heading. His breaths start to come even faster, and then the next catches in his throat when he feels the wet drag of Makoto’s tongue over his left nipple. The sensation shoots through him, straight to his dick, and then Makoto’s shoulders flex again as he uses his elbow to lift himself up slightly. This time, when Makoto licks at him, he teases his right with his thumb, and Haruka’s nails lightly bite into Makoto’s skin as he moans, hips shifting restlessly from the rush of pleasure.

“Haru,” Makoto groans, and Haruka’s eyes screw shut tighter, torn between wanting to see Makoto’s face but too embarrassed by his own to look at him. “God, Haru…” Makoto licks at him again, lightly rolling his right nipple this time and then rubbing it with his thumb as he tries a light suck to his left.

“Ah, Makoto!” He can’t cut off his voice or stop how it hitches into a higher pitch and drags out at the end; can’t stop the jolt of his hips. His face feels on fire, _his whole body does_ , just from Makoto touching and mouthing him there, and god, if Makoto were to go lower, how incredible would the same feel to his dick? It jerks at the thought, and part of Haruka kind of wants to die that he’s so incredibly turned on just from this, but then Makoto takes his mouth again, soft whimpers falling onto Haruka’s tongue between the wet sounds; he’s as needy as Haruka is, just from Haruka’s hand in his hair, the bite of Haruka’s nails, Haruka’s taste, Haruka’s pleasure. Haruka has turned him on to the same feverish level in their shared inexperience, and the awkwardness suddenly leaves him. He’s not alone in this; Makoto is there, right beside him, two small town, inexperienced boys, learning their way together, just as always.

Drawn out of himself, Haru realizes, as Makoto’s mouth finds his neck again, that Makoto is lightly rocking his hips against the mattress. “Makoto,” he breathes and then, tightening fingers through Makoto’s hair, and delighting in the needy whine that vibrates his pulse point, he urges Makoto’s head up. He’s gorgeous, hazed and blushing, lips swollen, and as Haruka kisses him again, he slides his lower hand to Makoto’s opposite hip, rolls himself up slightly and then tugs Makoto in encouragement as he lays back down. He really wants to put Makoto onto his back, to look at him, to see the push of Makoto’s erection against his pants, to touch him from face to toes, but he wants this more, for them to take care of each other this time, and he figures this would be easier for Makoto than putting the attention on him. Even now, Haruka feels a slight hesitance, but before he can break from the kiss to breathe a please against Makoto's lips, Makoto is moving, and Haruka softly groans as Makoto settles between his legs and he feels the pressure to his pelvis.

Dropping his head back and breaking the kiss, Haruka open his eyes, sees Makoto looking down at him, gaze lidded. Bringing his hands up, he touches Makoto’s cheek, traces his mouth, then cups his face and kisses him lightly as he arches his hips upward. “Okay?” he asks, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more relieved when Makoto nods and breathes a _yeah_ , because it had felt incredible.

Haruka’s lips curve up softly and he touches Makoto’s face again; pure adoration flashes through Makoto’s eyes as always when Haruka shows him an unguarded smile, and Haruka has no regrets at having saved them all for him. “Makoto is beautiful,” he murmurs, and Makoto's expression changes slightly to a demure sort of pleasure before he turns his head to press a kiss to Haruka’s hand.

“Haru is, too,” he says, and then he dips his head to take Haruka’s mouth, lightly sucking at Haruka’s tongue as he rolls his hips downward. Haruka feels him, thick and hard against his thigh, and his breath catches in Makoto’s mouth, as much from that as from the pressure to his own aching dick. As Makoto’s hips move away from him, Haruka shifts himself slightly, and this time,

“Mmm…”

“Ah, Haru!”

This time when Makoto arcs down, his erection rubs the length of Haruka’s, and it’s _so_ much better.

Their mouths come together again, hungrily. Haruka weaves his fingers through Makoto’s hair, lightly tugging as their hips meet. Makoto lightly pivots his, increasing the intensity of the friction and Haruka sucks at his tongue as he arches and meets him. Makoto breaks the kiss with a throaty sound that shoots through to Haruka’s dick, and he knows that he isn’t going to last much longer. He can tell by the tension through his stomach and balls, and he knows they’ve only just started, but he can’t care enough to be embarrassed. It’s _Makoto_ , and it feels _so_ good, and he just wants to get off, wants Makoto to get off with him.

Makoto breathes Haruka’s name in between kisses to his jaw, then buries his face against Haruka’s neck. “Haru,” he nearly whimpers this time and the roll of his hips falters; their heavy breaths seem to fill the room as they just rock together for a moment or two, and Haruka is close, _so_ close. “Ha, Har… _oh, Haru!”_ Makoto’s voice, pitched with pure need, tears through Haruka as Makoto pushes their groins together again, a last powerful roll before Makoto freezes and shudders. Haruka needs just a bit more so he rolls up into Makoto again; the way Makoto’s breath catches into a groan with the bit of extra pressure sends him over, his own breath hitching with a soft, whining sound as he clings to Makoto and rides the wave of pleasure out.

Makoto slips off of him slightly as they come down, but he stays close, rests his head on Haruka’s shoulder. His hand finds Haruka’s and Haruka’s finds his hair, idly caressing through it as their breaths even out. Haruka feels hot and sticky, slightly gross, but mostly amazing, and he lets his eyes fall closed with a soft little sigh. Makoto smiles against his neck, he can feel it, and then, “I'm glad Haru feels good. I do too. I'm sorry I went so fast though,” he says after a slight pause, his voice a slightly rushed whisper.

Haruka huffs softly, turns with enough determination that Makoto is forced to roll onto his side and let him. “Idiot,” he mutters, and then, “I did, too. We both got to feel good together; that’s what matters. We just need practice,” he says matter of factly.

Makoto blinks and then laughs, just as Haruka knew he would. “No complaints here.” He grimaces slightly as he shifts his leg. “Maybe next time we should try with no pants, though.”

Haru’s eyes widen, and then he can’t help but chuckle when Makoto’s do, too, his face going red as his brain catches up with his mouth. “Don’t laugh at me,” he says petulantly as he hides his face in Haruka’s neck again, which makes Haruka laugh just a bit more, but then,” I want to try everything with Haru-chan,” Makoto says against him before lifting his head slightly to kiss his jaw and then pushing up and off the bed, grabbing his bag as he pads to the bathroom.

Haruka stares after him in surprise that softens to gentle affection when he sees the redness in Makoto’s ears. They’re growing and evolving together, but beneath the changes, they’re still them, and a sense of comfort fills him. A soft, happy smile settles over his lips as he closes his eyes and waits for his turn in the shower. He can’t ask for more than that and wouldn’t if he could.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka’s first birthday away from Makoto. Or, the one in which Makoto is sneaky and gets by with a little help from a friend.

The bus is quiet as it makes its way back to the hotel from the training facility. Or _nearly_ quiet. Asahi has snored a time or two in his seat next to Haruka, but Haruka is too exhausted himself to even muster a smirk or nudge. He lets his head rest against the window with a silent sigh. He knows it's all necessary, all part of the process, but- in this moment- he thinks he would give about anything to be where he'd been a couple of days ago; laying in Makoto's arms, as rested, content and comfortable as he thinks he's ever been.

After they'd cleaned up Saturday night, they’d put the blankets and pillows back in order for bedtime, and then they’d curled up together. Makoto had been holding him as they'd watched another movie, and the next thing he'd known, it had been sometime in the middle of the night and even the laptop had been sleeping. He'd woken up enough to move it safely to the floor, and then had turned and had fallen back asleep, head on Makoto’s shoulder.

When morning had come, he'd still been in Makoto’s arms, but his back had been to Makoto's chest. Haruka smiles a bit. Makoto had been pressing kisses to his hair, his hand resting lightly on his abdomen beneath his tee-shirt and Haruka had just laid there, feeling _so_ good, not wanting to break the moment. It hadn’t taken long for Makoto to sense that he was awake, though, and he’d murmured a slightly gravelly good morning, had pressed a kiss to his neck. Haruka had turned to return the favor and, after lazily making out for he doesn't know how long, they'd ended up having sex again.

Haruka had ended up on top of Makoto that time; Makoto had wrapped his arm around him and had drawn him there so easily that Haruka’s arousal had spiked. He knows that Makoto is strong and it hadn’t been the first time he’d felt it. Makoto has stopped him from stripping more times than he can count, pulls him from the pool every time they swim, and Haruka is shorter and slighter in comparison, yes, but not delicate by any means. However, after Makoto’s show of it in bed, even just that little bit; Haruka has a whole new appreciation for it.

They hadn’t done anything more beyond kissing and grinding again. They’d been too worked up, too lost in each other to even think about more, or about trying to avoid the same mess they’d made of themselves the night before. But it had been _so_ satisfying, and he’d gotten to see Makoto’s handsome face as he’d peaked; Haruka wasn’t going to concern himself over the extra laundry. And the way it had just _happened_ , so naturally, without thought or words, without awkwardness or embarrassment from either of them…

_I want to try everything with Haru-chan._

Haruka huffs softly, petulantly, the exhaustion making him resent the space between him and Makoto even more than usual. It’s unreasonable, he knows it. Even had Makoto been right there with him, the memory doesn’t do more than send a stir of warmth through him, he’s that tired. Which is probably a good thing since he’s sharing a room with Asahi and they have another early morning tomorrow. No, for as much as Haruka loves Makoto and wishes they _were_ together, he knows that a good part of his crossness is due to his _fixation on obsessions_ thing. But he can have as much of the water and of mackerel he wants almost every day. It’s not the same with Makoto, and it makes him greedier for what time they do have together, and needier for him in between.

Which means it’s going to be a very long several years if he doesn’t learn to control his thoughts and desires better.

That said, unlike water and mackerel, there is only one Makoto, and Haruka is **_so_** _in love with him,_ and they’re just starting to learn each other and their relationship on this level. And he’s trying, still, for the first time in his life, to learn to be without him when he has to. So Haruka is going to excuse himself the ultra-fixation.

The bus stops outside the hotel and the noise made by those team members that hadn't dozed off rouses those who had fallen asleep. Asahi comes awake with an odd sounding snort and, this time, Haruka can’t help but smirk. “Oh, shut up,” Asahi grouches groggily, and, after a quick stretch, he gets up so they can join the queue off. As soon as they’re in the fresh air, he comes more fully awake. “Man, something smells good out here,” he says of the myriad food scents wafting from the many restaurants and booths in the area. “We should totally find something to eat after we clean up.”

“Ah.” Haruka really doesn’t feel like it, just wants a long bath—which he can’t have anyway as the hotel rooms only have showers—and some sleep, but he does have to eat. And it's not like he can grab something from the convenience store or vending machine. Not that It would be his first choice on a normal basis anyway, but it's taboo right now, during competitive season.

He and Asahi grab their bags once they're unloaded and then head up; once they're in their room, Asahi flops down onto his bed facedown and wordlessly waves Haruka toward the bathroom. It’s slightly strange for how awake and hungry he’d seemed just a moment ago, but it’s Asahi, so Haruka doesn’t think _too_ much of it, just mutters his thanks as he passes and then lets the water beat down on his tired body for a few moments once he’s in and under the spray. Not too long, though; as much as he'd like to spend a little more time, he won't do that to Asahi. They’d discovered the night before that the hot water doesn’t last all that long, and he knows that Asahi wants to clean up, too.

Once he's done, he dresses, then tosses the towel over his head, heart aching just the tiniest bit as he wishes there were a pair of large, gentle hands waiting in the other room to finish drying him off. But there isn't, and Haruka doesn't know when the next time will be between his schedule and Makoto's, so he just lets the wistful thought go and pads out to the main room. Asahi gets up when he sees him, and then Haruka can see his bed; he stops, his head tilts slightly, and he blinks. “What…” But Asahi just grins, winks and heads into the bathroom when Haruka’s eyes shift to him from the small package on his pillow.

 _Curious._ It’s not like his birthday is a secret, and he supposes he shouldn't be surprised that Asahi had remembered, but he certainly hadn't been expecting a present. He picks it up and then his breath catches softly when sees the envelope underneath.

The writing. It’s from Makoto, not Asahi.

Asahi’s dramatic bed flop makes more sense to Haruka now; Asahi could have handed him the gift and it still would have been a surprise, so Haruka knows that it was because Asahi figured that he would want some privacy while opening it. “Idiots, both of them,” he affectionately mutters of Asahi and Makoto as he sits down on the edge of his bed. He'd expected this even less than something from Asahi; Makoto had already spoiled him and then some over the weekend, plus he'd gotten up early so that he could call to wish Haruka happy birthday before he’d gotten on the bus this morning .Though, in retrospect, he supposes he really _isn't_ that surprised. It's Makoto, after all.

Setting the gift to side, Haruka starts with the card. A soft smile curves his lips when he opens it up. It's cute, a fluffy gray and white striped kitten with a little birthday hat on, and just what he would expect from Makoto. The preprinted message just reads _happy birthday_ , but Makoto has written his own note on the other side.

_I know, I know; we already celebrated last Saturday. But I couldn't let the day go without you having at least one present. Happy birthday again, Haru-chan!_

Makoto’s message is followed by a few hand drawn emojis, smiley faces and hearts and one kitten face, and they’re all actually pretty good. “Idiot,” he murmurs again softly, and then he sets the card on the stand between the two beds and opens the present. Inside is a points card for one of the games he likes to play on his phone, and a new pair of goggles that make him roll his eyes at himself for _not_ having suspected that Makoto would have found a way to gift him something on the actual day. After all, Makoto has been gifting him new goggles every other year; that's about how long Haruka’s tend to last, and it's the year for it. He'll save them and start wearing them at the next tournament, he decides as he sets them to the side. An omamori of sorts; a reminder that Makoto is always with him when he swims, even when he’s not in the water with him.

Laying the goggles on his thigh, Haruka picks up the card again, lightly runs his fingers along the kitten’s fur as he thinks about the dualities of his boyfriend. Whimsical and practical, confident and shy, Strong and uncertain , childish and grown; so much deeper and more complex than the kind smile and easy-going personality that the majority of the world sees as Tachibana Makoto. And Haruka is glad for that, glad to be the one person in the entire world who sees, understands, and loves each piece of the beautifully complex puzzle that is Makoto’s whole.

He'd not been lying when he’d told Makoto that he could be selfish when it came to him.

Laying the card back down, Haruka picks up his phone and starts a text message to thank Makoto, but then he deletes it and pushes the call button instead.

“Haru!” Makoto sounds surprised, and then he looses a slightly breathless, slightly giddy laugh that brings a smile to Haruka’s lips. Makoto knows his surprise is up.

“Sneaky,” is all Haruka says, which makes Makoto laugh again.

“Well, like I said in the card, you had to have at least one present today!”

“Hn. Just remember, Makoto, turnabout is fair play. So watch yourself come November. Seriously though,” he continues in a softer tone, “Thank you, Makoto.”

“Mm. Haru sounds tired,” Makoto says after a slight pause.

“Ah. It’s been a long couple of days. But it’s making a difference. Coach said that if he could have used my last 100m time for seed I would be swimming the last heat at the intercollegiate. And my 200m was close.”

“Haru! Ah, Haru you truly are amazing!”

“I’m not,” he mumbles, his cheeks heating with Makoto’s praise.

“You are,” Makoto warmly refutes, “I mean, look at how well you’re doing! And you’ve not even started taper. I’m proud of you, Haru-chan.”

“No _chan_ ,” Haruka reminds and then, with a sigh, “And taper starts when this camp ends.”

“I figured. The tournament is getting so close now.”

“Ah.”

“Did he say anything about your IM?” Makoto asks, and Haruka’s lips press slightly as he idly rubs his stomach.

“I’m not quite where I need to be, but I’m close thanks to my crawl.” His free hand clenches lightly. “I’ve got to get it there, though. I _have to_. Makoto, if I don’t; if I’m not in Ikuya’s heat, I… “

You’ll get there,” Makoto soothes over the anxiety that steals Haruka’s words. “I know you will, Haru. You’ve been working _so_ hard, and I’ve been watching you as I can; the rest of your strokes are really good, Haru-chan! And when you add your determination and your connection with the water, well, there’s no way you won’t be ready when it’s time.”

And, like that, the ball of anxiety is gone. Because how can he not have faith in himself when Makoto believes in him so strongly?

“Thanks, Makoto,” he begins softly, but before he can say more, loud—and off-key—singing comes belting out from the bathroom. Out of all of Asahi’s quirks, he’s never done _that_ before, and Haruka rolls his eyes at how obvious Asahi is even as affection for his friend rushes through him. “Sounds like Asahi’s about done in the shower.”

Makoto laughs. “That’s what that was?”

“You could hear that?”

“Mm!”

Haruka laughs a bit himself and then the smile fades. “I should say goodbye then; finish getting ready since we still have to eat.”

“Mm,” Makoto replies, suspiciously noncommittally, and Haruka arches a brow; after another second, he softly huffs.

“So that's why Asahi was so eager to get something out to eat even though he was snoring like your dad on the bus,” Haruka mutters, and then, “Where is he taking me?”

“No place far, or too expensive,” Makoto quickly adds, “I know you're both exhausted, and we're all on a budget.”

“All?”

“Mm. When I told him about the restaurant, he agreed, but only if he could buy for your birthday. But Haru, you have to act surprised!” Makoto urgently pleads. “He'll be so disappointed if you don't.”

Haruka rolls his eyes but it's out of affection. “I will, I promise.”

“Thank you, Haru-chan. I love you! Have fun!”

“I love you, Makoto. Bye.” He disconnects the call and then, as he sets the phone down, he calls, “You can come out now, idiot, I'm done.” He tries not to think about Makoto, how he's missing his voice already, how the next time he knows for _certain_ that he’ll even _see_ him is when they swim next Monday morning because he won’t be home until late Wednesday night and Makoto has club and work on Thursday. And he has no clue when they’ll have any _real_ time; Friday’s no good, and Makoto is away Saturday for a club trip, back Sunday in time for work… And then it's back to classes and training again as they hurdle toward the tournament on the tenth. Yes, he’ll be tapering, but that won’t buy them any time. Less time in the pool means more time to catch up on studying and assignments. They are granted _some_ leeway during competition season, but the professors and coaches are in close communication, and extended deadlines are still deadlines.

“What?” Asahi demands as he comes into the room, towel tossed over his head, and Haruka has to snort in amusement. Asahi’s attempt at innocence is about as successful as Makoto's to keep him out of the ocean in April. But Haruka is willing to play along.

“Nothing,” he replies, and then, “Thanks. For helping Makoto out. It was a nice surprise, and it made him really happy that he _could_ still surprise me.”

“Ah!” Asahi grins as he tousles his hair again and then he grabs a tee-shirt. “By the way, dinner is on me tonight, for your birthday. I hear tell there's a restaurant within a half mile walk that does a really good salt grilled mackerel. that's one of your favorites, right?”

“Ah. Thanks, Asahi.”

_Makoto…_

“Haru?”

Haruka looks up, shakes his head with a slight smile. “It’s nothing.” Nothing that he can control anyway , so he lets the longing go and stands up to finish getting ready.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto takes Haruka up on his open-door offer, and an overdue conversation is had.

**_I am eating bananas with chocolate_ ** _._ _That sentence contains the string **eating bananas with chocolate**_ _. Said string creates a constituent, which means it acts as “one unit” for certain…_

Haruka blinks and then scowls slightly when he realizes that he's just reread the same three sentences for the third time in the last 10 minutes. He truly is trying to focus, but the sound of the rain keeps lulling him out of it . And besides, he’s studied this all before. Maybe not on this level—it’s a _bit_ more in depth than what high school had been—but, truly, most of his classes are just the same. And he gets why he’d been told to stick with the basics, understands that knocking the generals out of the way makes it easier for athletes to focus on competing, but it would be nice to learn something new, maybe a bit challenging, too. But what, he ponders.

Thanks to Haruka’s recommendation, it hadn’t been necessary for him to choose a career path right away. But what would he choose if he were forced to right then? After all, he's not going to be an Olympic competitor forever. And it's not like he'll have any money to stash away; Olympic swimmers are one of the athletic groups that _don't_ get paid anything in Japan. He's not going to live off of whatever Makoto makes, either. It's a matter of pride, yes, but, beyond that, they’re partners. Equals. Even though he knows Makoto would take care of him and make sure he wanted for nothing, without question, he needs to do his part.

And it's then that the rest of his brain catches up with the bit that's running the conversation through his head, and his cheeks warm as he realizes how readily, how _naturally_ , thoughts of forever with Makoto had come.

 _Makoto._ Of course the thoughts had come to him without any effort or realization. Who else could his forever be spent with other than the boy he's already been with that long? Haruka’s heart aches suddenly, soft and longing, and with a quiet huff he drops the book he hadn't been reading on to the floor next to his bed, rolls onto his stomach, and hides his head in his pillow. It's been over a week since he's seen Makoto at _all_. Just by a few hours, but still. And even though he'll see him tomorrow morning for swim, it won't be for long. Plus they won't be alone, which means they'll be lucky to find a moment or two to even just _hold hands_.

Maybe he'll see if Makoto wants to stay over Tuesday night, he thinks, as the rain picks up and his eyes fall closed. He'd get there late, would probably have work to do, and they'd have to actually sleep if they wanted to swim Wednesday morning, but a short night of Makoto in his bed just holding each other is better than waiting for however long it might be for them to have time for anything else.

_Anything else_

Those two words evoke memories from a week ago; Makoto’s mouth, warm and wet, tasting him from ear to chest, Makoto hovering over him, breathless, Haruka’s name falling from his lips between little gasps and moans; Makoto beneath him, flushed, eyes hazed, hips arching up into him, desperately pushing his erection against Haruka’s, the gorgeous face Makoto made when he came. Haruka’s gut tightens and his face heats with it; with another huff, he rolls up onto his side and snags his English text from the floor, because he is _not_ going to go **_there_** , so he’ll make himself study or fall asleep trying.

Haruka does just fine for the first five minutes or so, and then the rain picks up. There’s the occasional low, lazy rumble of thunder beneath it, perfect napping weather, really, and as he sets his text down and surrenders to it, he thinks that at least Makoto is on the train and won’t hear it. Maybe it will have passed by the time he’s home, he hopes as he drifts, but then an urgent knock at his door pulls him right awake again.

Brow furrowing, Haruka rolls up into a seated position and then pushes himself up to pad across to the door. He's not expecting anyone or anything, so he looks through the peephole. Eyes going wide, he steps back and unlocks the door. “Makoto, w—" He begins as he opens it, but thunder rumbles again, closer this time, and Haruka reaches out, grabs Makoto by the arm, and pulls him into the genkan. “Makoto,’” he starts again, but then he notes that Makoto is shivering. “Undress. You should probably wait for the bath until after the storm passes, but I can at least get you into something dry and warm.” Haruka knows that not all of Makoto's trembling is from being wet and cold, but there's nothing he can do about the other. Makoto’s fear of storms has tamed considerably since they were boys, but it is still there, and if he hasn't outgrown it completely by now, Haruka doesn't expect he will. Not that there's anything wrong with it. It's just Makoto.

“Thanks, Haru-chan.” Makoto’s voice is fairly steady, so Haruka nods and turns, ducks into the bathroom to grab a towel, then turns back to toss it to Makoto before moving into the main room to grab some clothes.

When he comes back with them, Makoto has undressed to his boxers, everything put in a neat pile on top of his shoes, and he's drying himself. “What happened?” Haruka asks in regard to Makoto’s unexpected arrival as he waits for him to finish, and doing his best not to look too long at his nearly naked boyfriend—who is too absorbed in toweling off before he makes too much more of a mess to be embarrassed by his state. “Did you miss your train?”

“Mm-mm,” Makoto replies with a shake of his head, and Haruka’s brows arch slightly as he sees the color creeping into his cheeks. “I just wanted to see Haru.” He sends Haruka a quick, shy smile before busying himself with his drying again, and it's then that Haruka sees that Makoto doesn't have his usual bag with him, but the bigger one he's brought before when he's planned to stay the night. “It's okay, right?” Makoto asks, glancing up at him again. “Haru said I could when I wanted to, and it’s been so long; over a week since we’ve seen each other. I figured since I was so close with work, and would be coming back this way again tomorrow...”

The bit of uncertainty tugs at Haruka and, without thought, he steps forward, barely noticing the water seep through his socks as he touches Makoto's cheek. “It's fine,” he says softly. “I meant what I said, and I'm glad you did. It's been too long for me, too.” Slipping his fingers back slightly, he pulls Makoto down for a lingering kiss and then, when they part, he passes the clothing off and steps back. “Finish up and get dressed, I'm going to go make some tea.”

Makoto goes red from his neck to his ears as he finally thinks about his state of undress. _Cute._

“Haru, stop staring!” Makoto frantically hisses and Haruka huffs in amusement as Makoto hides his face in the pretext of scrubbing at his hair.

“Okay, I’m going.” But, as he turns, he sobers as that question from a while before suddenly comes to the forefront of his mind: _why is Makoto so self-conscious?_

By the time Haruka comes out with their mugs, Makoto has finished up and is cleaning the mess from the genkan floor. “Be right there,” he assures, looking up when Haruka pauses in the doorway, and Haruka nods, heads into the main room. Makoto joins him not more than two minutes later, settles beside him, thanks him with a kiss to the cheek. “This is perfect,” he sighs after taking a swallow, and when the thunder comes louder, he barely flinches, just shifts a little bit closer. It’s lovely, cozy, and a lot of Haruka just wants to leave things as they are, but he also knows that some things need to be talked about. And it really is an opportune time, as Haruka can tie it to Makoto’s behavior in the genkan versus trying to find a natural lead into it later.

“Makoto.”

“Hm?” And Makoto gives him a smile that’s so content and sweet that Haruka temporarily falters.

“We should do this always,” he says instead, cheeks warming under Makoto’s curiosity and his own cowardice. “Makoto should just come here and stay the nights before we swim.” There’s more he wants to say about it, but the words get stuck. 

Not that it matters. Makoto finds them for him, as always.

“Haru! I’d like that very much, Haru-chan,” he says softly, happily. “Even when we have coursework, or on the later nights when we can just say hi and sleep, at least we’d be together. And we might actually end up with more time without me having to worry about trains.”

“Ah.” A few seconds pass, and then, “Makoto…”

“Haru…”

They come over each other and Haruka gives a soft huff of annoyance, but it’s more directed at himself for not having pushed through and approached the conversation he'd meant to have before Makoto had read from his expression that there had been something more on his mind.

“Sorry, Haru-chan,” Makoto apologizes with a soft chuckle and then he nods him to go ahead.

Haruka takes a subtle breath. “In the genkan, before. Why…”

 _Damn it._ He really hates words, and how does Makoto just speak what he wants or needs to so freely? He glances at Makoto, but all he sees is patient curiosity, none of the dawning understanding that’s usually there 90% of the time he gets stuck, so he knows he’ll need to push through it. “In the genkan before, why was Makoto so self- conscious? It was just me, and…” he trails off again, searching.

“And we’ve seen each other before? Done things together now?” And Haruka can’t help the silent sigh of relief, despite how bad he feels for how obviously uncomfortable Makoto is, it broadcasted through where his blush lays, the tension through his eyes and smile.

“Ah. There’s nothing wrong with it,” he’s quick to assure as he holds Makoto’s gaze. “I love you as you are. And I’ve always known it’s just part of Makoto, how you get nervous when everyone’s attention is on you. But things are different now. With you and me. Us. And I want to know why you’re so good with… Well, when we’re in bed. Together. How you can… when you’re the one who…”

**_Damn it!_ **

“Why I can touch and look at Haru, but get self-conscious when Haru looks at and touches me?”

“Ah.” Another silent sigh of relief, but then Haruka nearly chokes on it when,

“I’m sorry, Haru-chan. I’m trying.”

It’s so soft, so contrite, and Haruka’s heart breaks slightly with it. He sets his tea down, shifts to kneel in front of Makoto, takes his face between his hands. “Don’t. I didn't ask to make you sorry, or to make you feel bad. I just want to understand.”

Makoto’s hands come up to cover Haruka’s. “I know,” he says with another sweet smile, and then he takes Haruka’s hands, draws them down to hold them in his lap, gives a quiet sigh. “It's me. Not that I think I'm ugly, or horrible, or anything,” he rushes when he sees the shock that Haruka can feel painted all over his face. “I know I’m not. It's just ... Well, you know I got bigger than everyone else, back in elementary school,” he begins, and Haruka slowly nods. “And it was okay at first, but then it seemed like I was the _only_ one. Everyone else was still cute, and I was the big boy. I know nobody meant anything by it. It's true. I was. _Am_ ,” he corrects. “But it seemed like that's what _everything_ became. I wasn't clumsy and awkward because I was a little kid or because I was just learning. It was because I was big. I was always told to be careful when I played, or I might hurt someone because of my size. And being shy or afraid?” Makoto shakes his head with a small smirk that just looks wrong on him. “Don’t be silly; you’re such a big boy!” His expression and tenor shift to a more natural one. “I just, I don’t know, got really conscious of it, I guess. It made me different than everyone else. Made me feel singled out, which I _really_ didn’t like, as shy as I already was. Now, if I’m doing something, like coaching or swimming—or touching Haru,” he adds with a quick, soft smile, “I do just fine. But when the focus is all on me, well, I still struggle with it.”

Haruka is silent at first, part of him trying to process, part of him feeling like crap because, albeit silently, he’d been a part of it, chalking Makoto’s clumsiness up to his growing size while he’d tried to reconcile himself to it, to Makoto outgrowing him. “I remember those days,” he says quietly. “But I remember seeing you grow through it, too. Seeing you deal with it. Watching you make your height and size your own.” He gives a small smile. “I was worried, you know. That you wouldn't need me anymore. Because you were big, and I wasn't.”

“Haru!” Makoto exclaims softly, sorrowfully, and Haruka shrugs.

“It's true.” He gives another small smile. “And when the only thing that ended up changing was your size, and you stayed the same sweet, shy, nervous little boy that had always been my friend, I never thought twice about it.” He feels his cheeks start to warm, but he pushes through it, because Makoto needs to know. “All I thought was _Makoto is Makoto, no matter how grown he is_. And I was happy. Because that was all that mattered to me.”

“I remember the first time you told me that,” Makoto says softly. “ _Makoto is Makoto._ I was in a rough spot then, too. Didn’t know which way was up. And all it took was those three words from my most important person, and it was clear again.” His smile widens. “We’ve been through a lot since then, but what I said that night is still true. “I love swimming and I love Haru-chan.”

The words rush through Haruka, warm and sweet, to leave him as flustered and as breathless as they had that night so long ago. But, now, Haruka knows what it all means, so, “And of course I’ll still swim with you. Always,” he says, but he adds, “And I love Makoto, too,” to the end before leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to Makoto’s lips. He hurts for Makoto, for what he went through, what he’s working to overcome, because of the unintentional carelessness of others, but he knows now. And now that he knows, he can help Makoto heal, can remind him whenever necessary that Makoto is Makoto because of each unique characteristic that makes him him, and the _only_ one that Haruka’s ever wanted or needed.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we pick up where we left off and another step forward is taken.

When Haruka pulls away from the kiss, Makoto is smiling. The sight of it draws Haruka’s lips up, too, as he just slightly settles back. “I remember the days before you grew, too. When you were small. But Makoto has always been cute. Even when you were growing.”

“Haru.”

“You have,” Haruka persists to Makoto’s embarrassed disbelief. “You still are. Even now.” He feels himself start to falter, feels his own awkwardness flare up again, but he briefly draws in his lips to moisten them and does his best to set it aside. “For as handsome and grown and hot as you are, every day you’re cute, too,” he rushes, the heat in his face flaring at Makoto’s shocked gape and reddened cheeks. “You’re still Makoto beneath the man you’ve become. That little boy. My best friend. Just… mine.”

“Haru,” Makoto says again, but there are tears in it this time, and then Makoto’s pulling him close, burying his face in Haruka’s hair. “Thank you, Haru. For being patient with me and for loving me.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” Haruka mutters as he wends his arms around Makoto’s neck, ”You do the same for me, right?”

“Mm.” Makoto kisses his head and Haruka hides a quiet sigh of relief against Makoto’s shirt. He’s grown, too—a lot, he feels, since coming to Tokyo, since his relationship with Makoto changed—and he’ll keep pushing himself to, like Makoto. _For_ Makoto. But it’s hard, and he’s always glad when things shift to more comfortable ground. Like this. No words, Just Makoto in his arms, Makoto’s arms around him.

And then Makoto lifts his head, seeks Haruka’s mouth, and it gets even better. 

The kiss is soft and sweet and _so_ addictive, proof that Makoto is everything Haruka had told him, Haruka thinks dazedly when Makoto deepens it, sensually stroking over his tongue and palate as he drops the softest sounds into Haruka’s mouth. “Makoto,” Haruka breathes when they part, and he drops his head back, hands tightening against Makoto’s shirt as Makoto moves to his neck. “Makoto, do you have coursework to do tonight?”

“No.” Makoto kisses beneath his ear and then his pulse point. “I did it at the hotel last night and on the bus home this morning after I’d decided I wanted to surprise Haru.”

Haruka smiles a bit, turns his head, nuzzles Makoto by his ear. “See? That’s cute.”

“Haru!” Makoto says with a laugh.

“It is.” Haruka brushes a kiss over his lips, then teases at his jaw, dips his head to the protrusion at his throat. Makoto shudders a sigh when he kisses it, then softly groans when Haruka lightly sucks at it; hitches Haruka’s name on a breath, hands grasping at Haruka’s shirt, when he tries a light brush of teeth. “Yeah, cute and hot like I said,” Haruka breathes as his body responds to Makoto’s reactions, the way he looks, tastes. He’s warm, _so_ warm, and getting hard already, and he can’t stop the soft, needy sound he makes as he takes Makoto’s mouth again; can’t bring himself to care about it, either, not when Makoto whimpers softly around his tongue, wraps his arms around Haruka to pull him close.

Haruka moves with the embrace, shifts into it, instinctively parting his legs to accommodate as he’s pulled over Makoto’s lap. The position puts him just slightly higher than Makoto and, breaking the kiss, he cups Makoto’s face, slides his fingers up into his hair as he tilts Makoto’s head back, then dips his own to tease at his throat again, nursing more of those sweet, addictive sounds from him.

“Haru!” Makoto gasps, hips shifting beneath Haruka when he gently bites, and _oh._ Haruka can’t help but roll his ass down when he feels the tease of Makoto’s erection beneath him. “Ah, Haru!”

Haruka’s entire body feels on fire and he welcomes it, welcomes the buzz of pleasure in his head that takes away things like words and thinking. Sliding his hands down, he grasps Makoto’s shoulder with one, delighting in the firmness when he squeezes. The other skates across Makoto’s chest to rub over a nipple through his shirt as he rolls his ass down again, and then one of Makoto’s hands leaves the small of his back to grip his waist. Haruka stills his mouth, now at Makoto’s pulse point, eyes falling shut, but then they flare wide in surprise, his breath hitching when, instead of pulling back in embarrassment, he feels Makoto’s other hand slip between them to rub at Haruka through his pants.

“M—Makoto!” Makoto glances up at him, shy and questioning, but when their eyes meet, whatever Makoto sees makes that all fade to pleasure and Haruka softly groans when, green darkening with it, Makoto rubs him again, hand cupping slightly to squeeze as he does so. It’s an entirely different sensation, pushing into Makoto’s hand; his lips part softly with it, then he closes his mouth, swallows. “Makoto, too. I want to touch Makoto, too.”

“Haru.” Makoto’s face flares redder, but he nods, moves his hand; Haruka thinks for a moment once the pleasure eases to allow him. He sees the push of Makoto’s erection between them when he glances down and his mouth goes dry; he knows what he wants, to see it, touch it, but would Makoto be okay with it? And how does he even ask for it?

Makoto is looking at him now, heat fading from his eyes as question creeps in. He _doesn’t_ ask, Haruka decides, thinking of how naturally things had occurred last weekend when they’d just gone with where their arousal had taken them. So he swallows his nerve, dips his head to take Makoto’s mouth again and, as he sucks at Makoto’s tongue, makes him clutch at him and moan, he eases a hand between them, strokes his fingers up Makoto’s erection— _god_ —and then hooks one to lightly, questioningly, tug at the elastic at his waistband.

Makoto freezes in their kiss, his hand briefly tightens, but then his mouth moves again, thumb caressing along Haruka’s waistband beneath his shirt. Haruka recognizes the silent permission and takes it, slips his fingers beneath Makoto’s waistbands to touch him. He can’t reach much as they are, just the soft, damp flesh of his tip and the ridge of his head, but _he’s touching him_ and Makoto isn’t freezing or shying away, he moans like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt and Haruka feels himself leak a bit beneath that pleasure that’s again buzzing through him. _He’s_ caused this, Makoto’s erection, those sweet sounds, and he’s never been more aroused.

“Makoto,” Haruka murmurs against his parted lips, then he tilts his head to Makoto’s ear, kisses beneath it. “Makoto, lift your hips.”

“Haru?” Makoto’s voice is that soft, husky tone that always teases through Haruka’s gut; swallowing against the mixture of nerves and arousal, Haruka shifts back a bit himself, pushes up to tug his own waistband down, eyes anywhere but Makoto’s. “Oh”, Makoto breathes as Haruka exposes himself, and Haruka’s jaw tenses. It’s embarrassing, but then, “Oh Haru,” Makoto whispers shakily and he reaches out, touches him, breathes his name again as he runs his fingers back down toward his base.

“M-Makoto,” Haruka reminds even as he grips Makoto’s shoulder again to steady himself through the rush of pleasure.

“O-oh, right.” Makoto’s face heats again and he flashes an apologetic look up to him before busying himself with working his own pants down. Haruka wants to watch but doesn’t, waits until Makoto’s hands find his waist to pull him close again before glancing down. It’s not the first dick he’s seen other than his own—Nagisa and Rin have absolutely no shame, never mind the locker room at Hidaka—but they, obviously, hadn’t been hard. And it’s the first time he’s seen Makoto’s at _all_ that he consciously remembers. It hurts a little bit, thinking of Makoto being so self-conscious, and Haruka has no doubt that, even now, he’s always taking extra care in the locker room because, like the rest of him, Makoto is big. Not obscenely so, but just right for him, Haruka decides, and the jealous part of him is irrationally glad that nobody else has likely seen him. That’s good; that’s perfectly fine because he’s Haruka’s and nobody else _should_ be looking at him anyway.

Not wanting to make Makoto self-conscious, Haruka glances back up, but he's had nothing to worry about, he finds, because Makoto’s looking at him, too, and it shouldn't embarrass him because he was just doing the same, but it does anyway. “Makoto!” he hisses, and Makoto’s eyes jerk up; he gives a nervous, apologetic giggle.

“Sorry, Haru-chan. I just… I’m _so_ glad you’re mine.” Makoto’s eyes flash with that word and it jolts warmth through Haruka’s gut as Makoto takes his mouth again, hands tightening as he draws Haruka even closer onto his lap. Their dicks brush and Makoto’s groan overlaps his own; leaving the kiss to Makoto, Haruka slips a hand between them to bring them together again. The more deliberate rub feels amazing. Makoto’s hips jerk with it and he makes one of those breathy sounds Haruka finds so erotic; Haruka breaks the kiss to mouth over to his ear. “I’m glad Makoto is mine, too,” he manages against it as he rubs his dick against Makoto’s again and then he gets his hand around them both and _god._

“Ah Haru!” Makoto’s grip on him tightens as fresh wetness leaks onto the curve of Haruka’s hand; Makoto’s, and the thought, the feel, brings more to Haruka’s tip.

“Mine,” Haruka says again for how strongly that possessiveness courses through him and he tips his head down for Makoto’s mouth.

“And Haru is mine,” Makoto says against it, voice slightly fierce with it, and he tangles a hand in Haruka’s hair, kissing deep and desperate as he pushes up into Haruka’s fist. The bit of roughness pulls a groan from Haruka and his grip on them tightens as he drops his head back. Makoto tugs it back just a little bit more as his mouth moves to Haruka’s jaw, his ear, and he slips his free hand between them to cup and roll his palm over their heads as Haruka pulls at them with short, quick strokes.

Haruka tries to tell him how good it feels, to say even just his name, but his breath keeps catching in his throat and all he can do is answer the soft moans and gasps Makoto is making against his neck with needy ones of his own. The pleasure builds through his gut, draws his balls tight, and then Makoto’s hand teases over them again before sliding down to wrap around Haruka’s in a squeeze and he’s done. “Ma—” he gets out before his orgasm overtakes him and draws it out into a breathless cry as he tenses and spills over their fists.

“Haru. _Haru.”_ Haruka whines as Makoto continues to guide his hand through the strokes, driving Haruka’s pleasure higher as he chases his own release. Just when it’s bordering on too much, Makoto keens his name and comes, and Haruka shivers as the heat of it penetrates the sensation of his own release. “Haru.” His name comes on a shaky breath this time and Makoto’s hand falls away, his other slipping down so that he can wrap his arm around Haruka’s waist to hold him close while they catch their breaths and regain their senses.

They spend the next several minutes like that, just holding each other, relaxing into each other, and then Makoto presses a soft kiss to Haruka’s neck and lifts his head. Haruka shifts back a little bit, and then he tips his head, brow arching in silent question, because the look on Makoto’s face is not what he’s expecting. It's shocked, guilty, maybe a little afraid, and when Makoto’s lips part but no sound comes out, Haruka’s second brow joins the first. “Makoto?”

“H—Haru, I… Your neck. There’s… I left a mark on your neck. Haru, I’m _so_ s—”

Haruka’s lips curve up just slightly at Makoto's surprised look when he silences him with a finger. He doesn't know what he'd been expecting, but he’d not anticipated this. It's almost cute, how worried Makoto is about it, even as Haruka feels bad _for_ how worried he is. And okay, so it's not _ideal_ , and the thought of having to deal with the questions and teasing is _already_ a little irritating, but overall, “Makoto, it’s fine. I’ll tell them it’s none of their business,” he says, anticipating Makoto’s question when his lips part as soon as Haruka moves his finger.

Makoto gives a single nod after a second or two, then a small, uncertain smile. “Asahi will tease.”

“Ah.” There’s no sense in denying that, but, “But he’s also like us, and he’ll keep it in private. It’s fine,” he assures again, and then, as his face warms, “It’s Makoto’s. And—" He feels the heat deepen when Makoto tilts his head in question. "I liked now. How Makoto touched me. Called me yours.” He shifts to try and leave Makoto’s lap, but Makoto grabs him at the wrist, stops him, pulls him in close again for a slow, gentle kiss.

“I'm glad. Because I couldn't help it. You’re so beautiful, Haru, and I love you so much. Want you so much.” Makoto’s cheeks pink, and he tips his head forward to bring their foreheads together. “And I love it when Haru calls me yours, too. It makes me feel like I can do anything. Makes me feel not so shy anymore.”

“Good. Because I want to try everything with Makoto, too.” Haruka tips his head, gives Makoto a quick kiss, then, face burning, tries to stand again. This time, Makoto lets him, but before he can take a step away, Makoto grabs his hand again.

“I love you,” he says, and Haruka smiles as a softer warmth flows through him; he knows he will never, _ever_ get tired of hearing that.

“I love Makoto, too.” He gives the hand a squeeze. “Go get cleaned up. I have leftovers in the fridge. I'll start heating them up. You must be hungry after work and ... that.” He blushes all over again when Makoto softly laughs as he nods, but Makoto’s expression is so full of unbridled adoration that all Haruka really wants to do is go back to him, kiss him all over again for feeling so much love for someone like him.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that, Haru-chan.” Haruka blinks, and the look on Makoto’s face makes it even harder to stay away, but he knows that if he goes back, they’ll never get off the floor—at least, not until they both end up too exhausted for swim in the morning, never mind classes the next day.

“No _chan_ ,” is all he says as he turns his face away, and Makoto laughs again. “Now go get cleaned up, so I can, so we can eat and get to bed.”

“Yes, yes.” Makoto lets him go and gets up. “But first—” Makoto, snags him about the wrist again, pulls him in for a quick, hard kiss, then lets him go with beaming grin before heading to the bathroom.

Makoto’s growing confidence just _might_ be the death of him, Haruka thinks, slightly dazedly, as he watches him. And it takes all he has to turn to the kitchen instead of following him for more.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Announcements are made, invitations extended, and Haruka comes to realize that a week without seeing Makoto really isn’t that long after all.

Haruka pushes off the wall for the nth time since practice had begun. His body tells him that they are nearing the end of the session, even though he has lost count of the number of laps that he has swum. But there's no relief with the knowledge. Just as he's found no solace in the water today.

…that's not entirely accurate, Haruka self- corrects as he dolphin kicks to the surface. There is _always_ peace to be found on his initial dive in; in those first seconds when he leaves the rest of the world behind to become one with the water. But, today, it had been short lived, and those few moments had been the only refuge he'd found. The water is charged tonight. He can't relax in it. It's full of the nervous energy of everyone in it, himself included.

Despite Haruka’s love for the water, his connection to it, he cannot help the anxiety he is discharging into it today. The inter-collegiate is just two days away, and he, and the rest of his team, will find out their seed times tonight. They'll know what heats they will be swimming in, who they will be swimming against.

Tonight, he’ll find out if his bid to swim with Ikuya has been successful.

As Haruka’s feet meet the touchpad at the other end of the pool, Coach’s whistle echoes through the natatorium. The water trembles with a mixture of the spike in nervous energy and the motion of the swimmers exiting the pool. Haruka joins the other first-years in line, takes a subtle breath to calm the bit of anxiety he feels. It doesn’t work, because the fact that he even _has to_ is just as unsettling as the anticipation. He’s never worried about his times. _Never._ Not even when he’d been waiting with Makoto, Nagisa and Rei for their heat at Nationals last summer. But now, in this moment, that’s what his swimming has come down to. Not his connection with the water or how free it makes him feel, not who he’s swimming with or for, but a series of digits spat out by an electronic reader. And he resents that a little bit.

“Quiet!” Coach calls over the nervous rustling, and everyone stills. “Good. Right. Heat assignments. Day one,” he begins, and instantly, Haruka tenses, feels Asahi tense beside him. All of Haruka’s, and most of Asahi’s, races will be on the first day, with the IM toward the middle and the freestyle relay capping off the day’s events. “Free 200-meter,” coach calls out, and Haruka’s fingers lightly clench, until: “Nanase; final heat, lane five.”

Haruka breathes, gives Asahi a quick, small smile when he feels the nudge of congratulations. He feels a bit better now; if he’d managed such a placement for the 200 meter, then the 100 is in the bag. Coach confirms it just few minutes later, final heat, lane four, and his cheeks warm slightly when he hears the rustle of whispers. Most of them are pleased, a few of them not so much; Haruka doesn’t like being the subject of it, but he knows that he’ll face more of it, and likely worse, as he continues on his path, so he doesn’t let it rob him of the pleasure he feels at how well he’s done.

Asahi makes the final heat on the 50-meter, and Haruka offers his own silent praise to his friend, who’s beaming, ear to ear. Breast wraps up the morning, so there’s a bit of a breather, until Coach calls out, “Men’s IM. Nanase.” Haruka shifts his gaze to the coach’s from where it had been straight ahead. “Final heat,” he announces with just the slightest of smiles as he holds Haruka’s eyes, and then it’s back to business again—and Haruka almost feels lightheaded with relief. Because he’s seen Ikuya’s IM and he just _knows_ that Ikuya has made it, too.

He has to have.

The rest of the announcements go in a bit of a blur, though Haruka does focus in for Asahi’s butterfly. Asahi had done well there, too; second to final heat, but the most sought-after lane, which meant that he’d been _incredibly_ close to that top-tier group. Coach wraps things up by sharing that their relay team has made the final heat, and that surprises Haruka a bit; they’re good, incredibly so for a team consisting primarily of first-years, but he’d not anticipated they’d be faster than teams that had experience under their belts. He can tell that the others had felt the same—and that the coach is quite proud, for how he gives them a moment or two to celebrate as a club.

Coach calls them back to order; after reminding them to mind their sleep over the next couple of nights and that they are strictly forbidden to do anything more than a relaxed 900 meters in the water the following day, he dismisses them. Haruka presses his lips softly to stifle the sigh that wants loose—he _really_ hates the thought of taper—and then turns to walk with Asahi as they’re dismissed.

“Nanase, a moment, please.”

Haruka pauses, nods in response to Asahi’s muttered, “Wait for you in the locker room,” his own curiosity as piqued as that which he sees in Asahi’s eyes. He turns to take the couple of steps back to the coach, then gives a short bow.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not going to lie, Nanase,” the man begins, crossing his arms in front of himself, clipboard neatly tucked beneath his left. “When you told me that you wanted to try for the IM, I hesitated. I’ve had enough swimmers under my sights, and I know what extreme pressure can do to them; I saw it in you when you stood in the middle of your 100 in last year’s regionals.”

Haruka’s entire body tenses minutely. He still hates to think about that time in his life, how utterly lost he’d been until Rin had taken him far enough outside his little world that he could finally see the bigger picture. But it’s foolish to try and pretend it hadn’t happened; that it isn’t still having an influence in some aspects of his life.

“That said,” Coach continues, "I also saw how you pulled yourself out of it and am well aware of the strides that you’ve made since—and not just with your swimming.” He smiles warmly at Haruka. “I see the effort you make to interact and engage and, while I also see that it’s still difficult for you, those skills will be as vital of an asset as your swimming with the path you’ve chosen to pursue. So I gave you a shot with the IM, and I have to say, you’ve surprised even me with how you’ve done.”

Haruka feels uncomfortable with the praise. It’s another area in which he’s always struggled; still does, even from Makoto at times. But the soft chuckle from his coach as Haruka nods, face heated, and murmurs his thanks tells him that the man’s not unaware of that, either. 

“You’ll get there, Nanase,” he says, and then he smirks a bit. “Or, at least to the point where you can fake it when you need. But anyway, there’s no denying your ability, or your determination to do what it takes to meet whatever goal is set in front of you. Even if it’s something as challenging as perfecting your weaker strokes to the point of being able to compete at a finals level. So, I think it’s time we broaden our scope a bit.”

Haruka’s brows dip slightly in confusion.

“You’re destined for greater things than being Hidaka’s ace in the 100 & 200 meter, Nanase,” his coach continues. “We need to start grooming you toward that. There’s a strength-training camp for All-Japan athletes only and I’ve secured you a spot. First timers are due in on the eleventh for registration and orientation, with training starting hard and heavy on the thirteenth. All of your events in the intercollegiate are on Friday, so you’ll have to catch the early train Saturday morning. You’ll be at the International Swimming Center in Chiba through the twenty-fifth and then move to the high-altitude pool complex in Tomi City until you’re back in Tokyo for the All-Japan.”

“On August eighth,” Haruka says, because he has to say _something_ , but his head is suddenly spinning as he tries to process all of this; what it means, how it’s making him feel. He’s proud, and excited and scared all at once because god, _this is actually happening_ , but again, coach must understand, because he just laughs kindly.

“It’s a lot. I know. But you’ve earned it, Nanase.”

“Thank you.” Haruka bows then straightens.

“Don’t thank me. Just use that potential and bring us those medals when it’s time.”

“Yes, sir.” Coach goes on then to talk about how it’s all set with his professors and what the e-learning will roughly look like, but Haruka only takes in about half of it through the numb buzz in his head. He _is_ cognizant enough to hear his dismissal, though, and he bows again and gives another, “Thank you,” and then pauses in his turn when the coach calls him again.

“You should think about a personal coach, too. A good one’ll spy what rough edges even I can’t and will get you polished up even further.”

Haruka nods and, brain definitely on overload now, finally makes his way to the locker room. It’s weird; he feels himself going through the motions of walking to his bench and opening his locker, but it doesn’t really feel like him doing it, he’s so dazed, and he drops down to just sit. He knows he should be moving; he’s got a lot to sort through, to do, sharing his news with Makoto most of all, but he just needs a min—

It hits him, then. It finally hits him, what that uncomfortable niggling beneath all the excitement and elation is. Makoto. A month away, or near enough, with only phone calls and texts, maybe Skype, and god, if they could hardly stand a week without seeing each other, then how—

“Haru?” Haruka blinks, looks up into Asahi’s eyes, concern edging out the excitement that’s ablaze in them. “Haru, are you alright?”

“Ah, he’s probably in a bit of shock.” Haruka and Asahi both turn their heads when Mikoshiba comes around the locker bank and, grinning widely, leans against the outer unit. “Good talk with the coach, Nanase?”

Haruka blinks, but then realizes that of course Mikoshiba had known, and he nods, because, truly, it was. It’s an incredible thing and he knows it, and Makoto will too; he’ll be so proud, and they’ll get through it, he knows, but—

Mikoshiba’s boisterous laugh cuts through the circular thought and then Asahi calls his name, obviously confused. Which means Asahi _doesn’t_ know about the camp, and Haruka feels an ache of a different sort filter in, because Asahi is _good_ , both in the water and as a friend, and his goal is the same as Haruka’s. It’s not like he can keep the news from him, though, especially not being on the same team, so he swallows everything down and tells him about it—and almost has to look away for how brightly Asahi smiles and his eyes light up.

“Haru, that’s _fantastic!_ Oh my _god!”_ Asahi grabs him by the shoulders, crouches to pull him into a quick hug, then moves back again. “You’re doing it, Haru! Damn if this doesn’t put you well on your way! But you better watch your back, man!” Asahi’s grin becomes a bit maniacal. “Cause I’m gonna be right behind you! And then I’m gonna beat you!”

Mikoshiba laughs again, claps a hand on Asahi’s shoulder and, despite everything, Haruka can’t help but smile, because it’s so like the both of them. “With that enthusiasm, Shiina, I don’t doubt you will!” the older redhead declares, and then, “So, you gonna share _our_ news now?”

“News?”

“Ah! Haru, we’re swimming against Shimo in the relay! Mikoshiba-senpai knows their team’s captain,” Asahi explains to Haru’s silent question. He shifts his gaze to Mikoshiba, who gives him a leer and a wink that leaves little doubt as to just _how_ he knows the other guy, and damn if that isn’t just one more thing for Haruka to turn over in his mind, given how Mikoshiba had always had his eye on Kou. He doesn’t realize he’s gaping slightly until Mikoshiba laughs again, but before he can do much more than color and close his mouth, Asahi goes on. “Plus, Haru, you did it! I asked him to ask how Ikuya had done and you’re not just in the same heat, you’ve got his neighboring lane!”

And that’s it. Between his seed times and lane positions, his success in the IM, Coach’s words, the camp, finding his _own_ coach, Mikoshiba, their rank as a relay team, and _this_ , plus still having to tell Makoto all of it, _including_ the month he’ll be away, Haruka just can’t process any more. He gets up and hurriedly grabs his pants from his locker and tugs them on, not caring that his jammers are still wet.

“Shiina,” he hears in the background, and then,

“I’ve got it, Senpai,” which is, blissfully, _thankfully_ followed by silence, save for the sound of the door closing as Mikoshiba exits.

It isn’t until Haruka is fully dressed and heading out the door himself that the tension singing through him eases enough for him to draw a normal breath. It’s been a while since he’s had a surge of panic like that. The last had ended with him in tears and burrowed under his blanket the night Makoto had told him he was going to Tokyo, and his first clear thought is that, thank goodness, he’d pulled himself back before the tears had come, because he doesn’t know how he would have gone back to the locker room had he broken down like that. Asahi is beside him, steady and silent, and Haruka is grateful on many levels, most of all that there’s someone sharing this path with him who knows and gets him enough to leave him alone until he’s ready.

Once they’re outside it gets a bit better. The ground is wet from recent rain and the air heavy with it, the heat almost oppressive because of it, but it’s open space, fresher in its own way, and Haruka feels a little freer; closer to himself, anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles to Asahi a few seconds into their trek through the courtyard, “It was just…”

“A lot, all at once?” Asahi picks up for him, and Haruka glances up at him, nods.

“Ah.”

“I figured.” Asahi grins a bit, softly. “I remember feeling that way when Nee-chan told me she was pregnant for Tsukushi. Some of the best news I’ve ever gotten but it still gut punched the breath right out of me, man. And that was just _one_ thing. I think anyone would have felt overloaded with all the good you got today, Haru.” There’s a pause, and then, “But I know you’re thinking about the flipside of it, too. That you’re pro’lly feeling a little bad for being given the spot over someone else who’s working just as hard to get on that path. And I know you’re _definitely_ thinking about having to leave Makoto.” He shrugs when Haruka isn’t able to mask his surprise. “I know I would be about Kisumi. Mikoshiba-senpai was talking with Kiryuu about it, and a month’s a long time.”

“Kiryuu?”

“Ah. I guess he’s going, too.”

That ache niggles at Haruka’s gut again. “Asahi.”

“It’s fine. Haru, I swear it.” Asahi grins, and there’s only a _little_ tightness around its edges. “I know I’m good. I know I’ll get there. It’ll just take hard work _and_ genius, and I’m good with that. I meant what I said. I’ll be right on your heels. But you need to know that I’m damned proud of you, too, and happy! And Makoto and you, you’ll be fine. He might not be swimming anymore, but he’s still part of the competitive life. He knew that time apart was gonna be part of it when you both decided to be together, and he still said yes anyway. Right?”

Haruka nods, still a bit too much overcome by just how _good_ Asahi is to try his voice quite yet.

“I mean, like he would have said anything else,” Asahi continues with a grin. “I always thought he had a crush on you, but I knew soon as I saw him that day your sugar dropped and you passed out that it was more than that, even though we were only kids.”

“Be quiet,” Haruka hisses, face red, but it’s not _all_ aggravation and embarrassment. He knows what Asahi is doing, and he’s grateful for it, too. But— "At least he never invited me to sit on his lap in front of the entire class,” he gives in return, smirking a bit when Asahi goes a deeper red than him and starts to sputter.

“Yeah, well… guess we were both idiots for not cluing in back then,” Asahi finally manages, and Haruka hums in agreement, especially in regard to himself. They’d only been twelve, and Haruka knows that even Kisumi had been too naïve, too _small-town_ , to know what love on this level was. But, as he thinks back to that night at the swimming club, and the first time that Makoto had verbalized his love, part of him thinks that some piece of Makoto had known even then.

“And at least they waited for us.” There’s enough smile in Asahi’s voice that Haruka looks over at him—and then he follows his gaze forward. His eyes widen slightly and then his heart skips a beat. Makoto and Kisumi are waiting by the gates, the two of them smiling and waving. There’s a slight squeeze to Haruka’s heart as he thinks again about four weeks without the sight of that beautiful smile or the feel of that hand in his, but then it eases. Because Asahi’s right. They’ve always been together, have always loved each other on some level. And no time away is going to change it. Not when they have each other to come home to at the end. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even good news can be hard to deliver, dealing with parents is hard, and Makoto is Makoto through it all.

“Final heat in all four of your races! Ah, Haru! I’m not surprised, because I’ve always known that Haru is best in the water, but I still just…” Makoto laughs softly and shakes his head. “You’re amazing, Haru-chan,” he says in a voice so full of love and pride that Haruka’s entire being warms with it—even though it’s at _least_ the third time he’s said it since they’d left Kisumi and Asahi back in the car park. Kisumi had offered them a ride, but they’d both declined. Makoto really could have used one; he’ll get back to campus in time for his club, but only barely, and without anything to eat. But he hadn’t been able to help it, he’d declared after they’d said their goodbyes to the other two. He’d wanted to hear Haru’s news, to congratulate him, in person.

And Haruka can’t deny that it’s presented him with an opportunity of his own.

“Stop being embarrassing, or I won’t cook for you!” he warns without any real heat except for the flush to his cheeks. It stops Makoto short, and his wondering stare just makes Haru’s face burn brighter. “What? You said I could come to Makoto’s whenever I want.”

“Haru!” Makoto laughs, soft and happy, as they approach the bus stop. “Mm,” he murmurs and, this time, when they see the bus draw near as they do, his smile doesn’t fade. “I’ll see you soon, then, Haru-chan,” he says in parting before joining the queue. Haruka holds onto the slight upturn of his lips until Makoto can’t see him anymore, and then he sighs and sobers as he turns away. He’s looking forward to it, too, but not _quite_ as much as he should be. He hasn’t had a chance to tell Makoto about the training camp, yet.

Haruka knows that Makoto doesn’t have much in the way of ingredients at home; they’d made plans to shop and restock both his cupboard and his freezer on Sunday. But that’s out now, and Haruka feels another twinge of guilt over having to cancel their plans. He has tonight, though, and over two hours between Makoto’s club and the time it will take him to get back home, plus he has no morning practice, thanks to taper. He’ll cook dinner, _and_ enough to fill Makoto’s freezer again.

After a quick, but thorough, trip through the market, Haruka lets himself in to Makoto’s apartment and gets to work. He’s just packaging up the last of the eel he’s grilled for the freezer for rice bowls when he hears Makoto let himself in. “Okaeri, Haru!” he calls cheerfully, and Haruka smiles; he can’t help it for how his heart at once leaps and aches from the rightness he feels. It doesn’t matter if they’re here or at his apartment miles away, when they’re together, they’re home.

When they’re together.

“Haru?” Makoto’s voice, warm and inquisitive, comes from a few paces behind him this time; makes him realize that he’d gotten lost in his thought. “What’s all this?” Makoto asks of the organized mess that is his kitchen.

“Dinner,” Haru replies. “Tonight’s, and to fill your freezer again, once I’m done. Tadaima,” he returns belatedly as Makoto steps into the kitchen space, and he tips his head so that Makoto can reach his lips instead of his cheek.

The kiss is short, and he can see the surprise in Makoto’s expression as he straightens. Haruka’s stomach flutters, which is dumb; he knows that Makoto isn’t going to be mad, knows that they’re going to be fine. It’s just a long time to be apart, especially for them, and if _he’s_ sad, he knows that Makoto will be, too. And he never wants Makoto to be sad.

For a moment Haruka considers asking Makoto to wait until they’re at table, but that would only worry him for how serious it would make things sound, so, “I know we were going to do this on Sunday,” he begins as he goes back to packaging the eel, “But—oh, stir the curry, please.”

“Ah! I thought I smelled it with everything else!” Makoto exclaims as he sidles by Haruka to the stove. “Haru’s been busy tonight!” Makoto stirs the bubbling pot and then, after a second or two, glances over at him. “But?” he gently prompts, and Haruka’s hands briefly still.

“But,” he resumes, “Something else happened at practice today; something I didn’t get a chance to tell you before.” Haruka takes a subtle breath. “I’ve been invited to a training camp. A private one. For All-Japan athletes only. I— Makoto, oi!” Haruka gasps when he abruptly finds himself in Makoto’s arms, his embrace tight enough that it’s hard to breathe.

“Sorry! Sorry, Haru-chan!” Makoto apologizes into his hair as he loosens his hold. He lifts his head, and the pride and awe shining in Makoto’s glittering eyes brings a rush of heat to Haruka’s cheeks and heart. “I just… I am _so proud of you!”_ he declares in a tight whisper, smile lighting his face despite the slight tremble to it. “You’re going to be great, Haru-chan!”

“No _chan,_ ” Haruka mumbles because he doesn’t know what else _to_ say right then, but then he realizes that there’s something damp at the middle of his back. Eyes wide, he glances at the pot and then back up at Makoto. “Idiot! Next time let go of the spoon!”

“Ah!!” Makoto drops his embrace and steps back, face beet red. “Haru, I’m _so_ sorry! I didn’t even think, I was so excited!”

Haruka’s expression softens as he takes the spoon from Makoto and drops it into the sink. “I know,” he says quietly. He smiles a bit then. “I am, too.”

“But?” Makoto asks after a moment, and with the tilt of head and dip of brows that tells he’s seen something off in Haruka’s eyes.

“I’m due in at the International Swimming Center in Chiba on the eleventh for registration and orientation, so I’ll have to catch the early train out Saturday morning.” He pauses just slightly. “I’ll be there through the twenty-fifth, and then we’ll move to the high-altitude pool complex in Tomi City until we’re due back in Tokyo for the All-Japan.”

Oh.” It’s soft and surprised, almost like the pronouncement had punched it out of Makoto, and then he just stands there for a moment, blinking.

“Ma—”

“Well, it’s a good thing—Ah, sorry, Haru, go ahead,” Makoto apologizes when they speak over each other.

“It’s fine. Go on.” Haruka assures; he’d only been going to ask after him anyway, and he’s curious as to what Makoto had been going to say.

“Mm. If Haru’s sure.” Haruka nods. “Well, I was going—ah, hang on a second.” Makoto leans forward to reach around Haruka to grab a spoon from the drawer, then, with a quick smile, moves back to the stove to stir the bubbling pot. “I was going to say, it’s a good thing that all of your events are on Friday, then.”

Haruka waits for more, then he waits a few seconds longer, and then he blinks in confusion. “That’s it?” Makoto hesitates in his infernal stirring, but then resumes it just as quickly. “Makoto!”

“What else do you want me to say, Haru?” Makoto blusters back.

“I don’t know! Something that isn’t you hiding behind some dumb observation about my events!” As soon as the words are out, Haruka regrets them, and, jaw tensing, he closes his eyes against the shock in Makoto’s expression. “Makoto, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Haru, no. It’s okay. Hey.” Haruka feels Makoto’s hand on his arm, makes himself open his eyes. The hurt is gone, but the remorse he sees makes him feel just as bad, and _why_ can’t he be better at this whole talking thing? “It _was_ a pretty dumb thing to say,” Makoto says with a very slight smile. “I just…”

“You just what?” Haruka asks quietly after a moment, placing a hand on Makoto’s arm in turn.

Makoto sighs softly, wraps his arms around Haruka, pulls him close. “I mean, what good would it do to tell you that it sucks? That it’s hard to think about? That I _can’t_ even really think about it, because how in the hell will I make it a _month_ without seeing you when Golden Week was hard and we weren’t even together then? I mean, it’s all true, yeah, but it doesn’t change anything. It’s still a huge, amazing honor, I’m still so, _so_ proud of you, and I’m so excited for you to go! Besides.” Makoto’s embrace tightens and he kisses Haruka’s head, then rests his cheek against it. “It’s just the first time of what’s sure to be many for as far as my Haru’s going to go. So I might as well not grumble about it, right?”

It’s weird. For as much as Haruka had been anxious over how Makoto would react, he actually feels _better_ when Makoto tells him that it sucks and that it’ll be hard for him. He probably shouldn’t, because—to him, anyway—that’s kind of messed up. But he can’t help it. It’s how he’s felt ever since he’d found out, and at least now he knows that it isn’t just him. Not that he’d _really_ expected Makoto to not be bothered by the thought, but still. Makoto goes on to tell him _again_ how proud he is and how strongly he believes in Haruka, and Haruka tangles a hand in the back of Makoto’s hair to give a petulant tug. “Stop being embarrassing, Makoto.”

Makoto laughs softly, kisses his head again. “Nope. Never.” He steps back enough for Haruka to look up at him. “It’ll be hard, but it’ll be okay, too, Haru-chan. We’ll Skype when we can, and I’m sure they’ll have at least one set of friendly races; you know I won’t miss it if they do. We’ll make it work.”

Haruka studies him for a moment and then, with a small smile, he nods. “Ah. Thank you, Makoto.”

Makoto shakes his head. “You don’t have to. It’s what we do for each other, right?”

“Ah.” Haruka tips his head up for a kiss, but then wrinkles his nose. His eyes go wide. “Damn it, the curry!” He sidesteps around Makoto as soon as Makoto drops his arms, and then he sighs softly after stirring the pot. “It burned to the bottom but it’s mostly okay.”

“Sorry, Haru-chan.”

“It’s fine.” He glances up at Makoto, sighs when he sees the contrition. “Here.” He puts a bit onto the spoon and then lifts it to Makoto’s mouth; Makoto takes it, smiles as he savors the bite. “See?”

“Mm!” He laughs then. “God, now that I’ve had a taste, I know how hungry I really am. Ah, don’t look at me like that, Haru!” he whines when Haruka gives him the _you’re weird_ expression. “You know what I meant.”

“Maybe.”

“Mean, Haru.”

“Go put your stuff away and get the table ready,” Haruka says, ignoring him. “This will be done by the time you are.”

“Fine, fine. Tell me more about the camp!” he says as he goes back to the genkan and, while he putters, Haruka fills him in on what he knows, including the recommendation for a private coach.

“I’m thinking about asking Azuma if he’d take me on,” he shares as Makoto comes in for water glasses.

“I figured.” He gives Haruka a smile. “You’re used to working with him, after all, and you’ve gotten incredible results. What do you think your parents will say?”

Haruka’s brow furrows slightly. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. They’ve been supportive of his swimming, had been proud when Hidaka had offered him the recommendation. But university isn’t cheap, even with it, and neither is a private coach, he’s sure, especially one with Azuma’s reputation. “I’ll try and reach them after dinner.”

“Mm.” Makoto comes back in, leans against the wall while he waits for Haruka to dish up their portions. “You know I’ll help however I can, too.”

“Makoto.”

“I know,” he assures to the silent, _you have your own stuff to worry about!_ “But the coaching job really was an unexpected blessing, Haru, and Mom and Dad won’t let me give them any of what I’m making toward my tuition or books or rent. It’s their job, they tell me,” he says with an affectionate, slightly wistful expression in his eyes, and Haruka understands it. He misses Makoto’s family, too. “So even if I can’t help with the bigger things, I can with things like groceries and stuff. Especially since you’re either cooking for me or teaching me how to cook.”

Haruka makes a noncommittal noise and hands Makoto their bowls; Makoto recognizes it for what it is and drops the subject. _It’s what we do for each other,_ Makoto had said, and Haruka knows that his offer is part of that, that—had the situation been reversed—he’d have said the same. But it’s one more thing on a laundry list of items to get his head around and he just can’t. Not tonight, anyway. 

Makoto reads him, as always, and dinner is filled with his soft rambling about his day, enough to fill the silence comfortably, but nothing that Haruka has to think about or reply to. Haruka lets it roll over him, through him, as he’s always done, soothing him like the sound of water to the shore that, from years of walking with his best friend at his side, Haruka can still hear beneath him in his mind. He breathes and the last of that anxious knot frees. A month apart, but they’re on the same page with it; achy from the thought, but knowing, and accepting, that it’s just part of what they have to do and that they’re stronger than any time or distance. It’s a balance he can live with, knowing that they share it, and he feels himself again—and maybe, finally, a little proud and excited over his accomplishments. His potential.

Once they’ve finished eating, Makoto tells Haruka that he’ll see to the cleanup. “Call your parents,” he urges as he stands and, after he heads into the kitchen with their bowls, Haruka takes his phone out. He tries his mom first, and reaches voicemail, gets the same with his dad, so he sends them both a text asking for a call before leaning back on his hands and thinking about which meal he wants to do next for Makoto’s freezer. He’ll have time to do one more before sleep while Makoto gets some course work done, he thinks, but before he can ponder much more, his phone rings. Haruka blinks for a moment, caught off-guard; he’d not been anticipating that quick of a turnaround, though he’s not surprised to see that it’s his mom that had responded.

“Haruka, is everything alright?” she asks promptly, sounding just a bit harried, and Haruka feels bad. He should have given a little more detail given his reputation with calling or texting either one.

“I’m fine,” he assures, and then he tells her about his seed times and the heats he’ll be in.

“Haruka, you did so well! It’s because you’ve worked hard,” she praises, and then he hears his dad in the background, hears her tell him Haruka’s news.

“Not that swimming has ever been work for him.” It’s muffled, but Haruka hears him clearly enough, and he can’t refute his father. He’s right, but it’s different, now. He _has_ worked hard, and he’s learned so much. It’s not so much what His father has said but the way that he’s said it that makes Haruka feel a bit off, or maybe it’s just because he’s emotionally tired from the ups and downs of the day. He isn’t sure, so he leaves it, lightly clears his throat before continuing.

“There’s more…”

“Hold on, sweetheart; let me put you on speaker. Alright, there you go.”

Haruka licks his lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous, though he doesn’t know why. “I’ve been—” there’s a minute pause as Makoto comes in, brow furrowed slightly; Haruka gives him a slight nod to say he’s okay, but Makoto joins him anyway, drying his hands as he sits close enough that their legs touch. “—invited to a training camp for All-Japan athletes,” he tells them, and it’s like Makoto’s been told all over again for how the pride lights his face. “I’ll leave Saturday morning, and we’ll come back to Tokyo on the seventh, before the All-Japan competition.”

“Haruka, that’s wonderful!” his mom praises sincerely, and Haruka’s face warms as the pleasure at having pleased her flows through him. “Such an honor!”

“And your studies? The expense?” Haruka’s smile falters; he’s not surprised by the first question, but the second tells enough about how little his father understands what he’s trying to do.

“It’s an invitational camp, dear, for Olympic potentials,” his mom says, again muffled, “He wouldn’t be paying; they anticipate their return on the investment in medals one day.”

“Which isn’t guaranteed.”

“Well, no, but—”

“Having my own coach would help,” Haruka cuts in flatly, both to remind them that he’s still there, on the line, and because it’s an opportunity to broach the subject and then get the call over with. Makoto’s hand comes to rest on his thigh and Haruka takes it, laces their fingers together, draws comfort from the quiet support.

“Yes, help _them_ ,” his dad replies, his mom’s quiet, _dear_ telling Haruka that they’ve switched places and that his dad has the phone now. “What?” His father sighs then. “Listen. I have no doubt that Haruka can make it to the Olympics. Swimming is the one thing he’s ever given any real time or effort to. But a medal is no guarantee, even for someone like him; they’re not paid athletes, and he’s not exactly cut out for advertisements and publicity hype. So even if fronting the expense for a private coach gets him there, where’s the personal return in the long game? That’s all I’m saying.”

Haruka feels how tense Makoto is beside him, knows he’s overheard; he chances a glance at him, and there’s a hardness to his eyes, one similar to, though not nearly as fierce, as what had been there when he’d confronted Tono. Makoto catches the look, blinks and smiles at him, sweet and gentle, lightly squeezes his hand. _Personal return_ , his father was concerned about. Well, Haruka has that in spades, sitting right beside him.

 _Right beside him_.

“I could coach myself,” he says evenly. “I’m not sure how much they make but I’m certain that, for a former medalist, the amount would be higher than average. And it’s not like they’re letting us skip out on our educational responsibilities. I’ll still have assignments to turn in and lectures to attend. It will just be done virtually. I won’t be the first athlete Hidaka has put forward for Team Japan. They know what they’re doing, Dad.”

There’s silence on the other end, and it’s quiet enough to where Haruka wonders if he’s been muted so that they can talk. Makoto must sense it, too, because he squeezes Haruka’s hand again leans over and kisses his head, gives him one of those smiles that make his eyes crinkle and Haruka’s heart flip.

“If we decide to do this, how do we go about finding a coach?” his dad asks without preamble several seconds later, and Haruka releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“I have one I’d like to ask. He’s been working with me casually and we work well together.”

“Fine. Get the information to your mother and we’ll discuss it.” A slight pause. “Do well Friday, Haruka.”

“Ah.”

“Haruka? What’s this man’s name, dear?” Haruka gives her Azuma’s information, and she thanks him, and then, “Haruka, your dad, he loves you. He just worries, and it was a long day for him today…”

“I know, Mom. It’s fine.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know what we decide. Good luck on Friday, sweetheart. I love you.”

“You too, Mom. Bye.” He disconnects the call with a sigh, finds himself in Makoto’s arms at almost the same time. “It’s fine,” he says again even as he lightly curls his fingers into Makoto’s tee shirt. “He’s just—”

“Your dad. I know.”

And Makoto does, because he’s been there, from the first time his father had chosen work over family, the first time he’d lectured Haruka for obsessing over a hobby, the first time he’d chastised him for his _odd and introverted_ ways. Haruka knows that his mom is right, that, in his own way, his dad does love him, and is proud of him, even. But his dad doesn’t _understand_ him, never really has. They’re just too starkly different.

Makoto’s fingers stroke through Haruka’s hair and Haruka’s grip on his shirt tightens. They’ve _always_ been different, and his dad doesn’t even know the largest one between them yet. Haruka wonders how that conversation with his parents, the one about Makoto, will go when it’s time to have it. He wonders what his dad will say, what side his mom, who’s always managed the balance between them, will fall on.

“It’s going to be fine, Haru-chan.” And Makoto’s voice is so firm that Haruka’s surprised into lifting his head. There’s a glimmer of that earlier look, that hard protectiveness in Makoto’s eyes, but it’s softened by love, by faith, by acceptance. “Whether they agree to bring Azuma-san on or not, you’re going to get there.” _Whether **they** believe in your dream, believe in you, or not, _is what that expression tells him, and Haruka nods, lets his head rest against Makoto’s shirt again. With a breath, he lets the last few minutes go, lets Makoto’s presence, the steadfast love that’s been there for _years_ before it shifted to intimate and romantic, soothe him like only his best friend can. He can’t say that he doesn’t care, because he does. They’re his parents. But Makoto believes in him. Haruka believes in himself. And they both believe in _them_. So he knows that, regardless, he’ll be fine, too.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend is met, small miracles happen, and Haruka and Asahi take their first steps toward the global stage.

“Alright, quiet. Quiet!” Coach repeats again over the last of the rustling as the remaining few from the bus join the squad. Haruka’s stomach tightens slightly in anticipation. It’s finally happening. His first competition that will directly impact his goal of the global stage.

In the _grand scheme_ of things, there’s probably only been one competition that has carried more weight, and that had been the High School Nationals last August; the relay where he’d redeemed himself in the eyes of the Hidaka scout and coach. But neither that race nor these ones are the _most_ important times he’s been in the water. Not to Haruka. No, those key moments are from much further back.

The first sits on the edge of his memory; a quiet cove with the sun shining on them, Makoto’s fingertips touching his. The first time he consciously remembers being in the water with his best friend. The second belongs to Makoto, too; their first day at the ISC, and the gateway to Haruka’s first taste of competitive swimming. Haruka’s lips flicker upward minutely. Makoto, still smaller than him, had been _so_ nervous as they’d made their introductions, and so sweet after when he’d given up the only dolphin keychain because Haruka’s smile, his happiness, had been more important to him than anything, even back then.

There’s a part of Haruka that is mourning the absence of Makoto at his side today. He thinks there will always be a part of him that will miss that, despite the fact that he’s as proud of Makoto for the path that he’s chosen as Makoto is him. But Makoto will at least be in the same space as him, cheering him from the bleachers, and he’ll be with Makoto tonight, from the moment that his coach dismisses them until he has to catch the train in the morning. Makoto will be missing a group project session and a watch with his anime club to make it happen, never mind everything he already has to make up for missing his Friday lectures so that he could be at the competition, but he’d insisted on it. _They can do without me and I’ll work hard and catch up,_ he’d said the night before last, and then he’d smiled a bit, pulling Haruka into his arms after he’d reached to shut off the light. _Like I said earlier, this is just the first of many times apart, I’m sure. So let’s start a tradition, Haru-chan. Whenever one of is gonna be gone for more than a couple days, we spend the last night home together._

 _First night back, too,_ Haruka had countered, and that had earned him a soft giggle, a nod and a sleepy, _mm,_ as Makoto had held him closer. They’d been too exhausted for anything more, between the emotional ups and downs of the day, the extra work in the kitchen and the daily rush that is the life of an active university student. But Haruka is just fine with that. Those softer, quieter moments between them are just as fulfilling as their more passionate ones, and equally as intimate.

“First years!” Coach calls, drawing Haruka’s attention outward again. “This is your first official competition. And for all of you, it’s the first step toward the All-Japan Invitational. How you do today will determine whether or not you make it. So keep your spirit strong and work hard!” His voice gentles after their collective _yes, sir!_ “I know you’ll all do us proud.”

The group dissipates then, breaking off into smaller groups, friendships that have developed in the months since they’ve been swimming together. He and Asahi walk with Mikoshiba and Kiryuu for a bit before deciding to go catch a look at the pool. “Check it out, Haru,” Asahi breathes as they look down at the glimmering surface, and then he takes a sharp breath and pulls himself up. “It’s finally happening, huh?”

“Ah,” Haruka murmurs in that same, slightly awe-struck tone. Because he gets it. On the surface, it’s no different than any other pool he or Asahi have swum in, have competed in, before. But for them, in this moment, it’s so, _so_ much more. It’s the beginning—of something that, like Rin, Asahi has been chasing ever since he was a little boy. And for Haruka, it’s the start of the precious dream that he’d nearly lost everything, including himself and Makoto, to find.

“It’s really something, isn’t it?”

The voice is familiar, but not enough to where Haruka places it right away. He and Asahi turn, as one, and the man behind them gives them a warm smile and wave. “Yo. It’s been a while.”

Haruka blinks and then it comes to him, apparently at the same time as it hits Asahi, but whereas he’s stunned into silence, Asahi stammers as he points and then all but shouts Natsuya’s name in his shock. “Hey! Don’t be rude!” Natsuya chastises, though largely in amusement, as Asahi’s behavior catches the attention of some spectators already in the bleachers below. Asahi promptly reddens and corrects his position, apologizes with a bow.

Natsuya’s lips quirk a bit higher, as if in a silent laugh, and then he slides his gaze to Haruka, who allows a slight smile as he bows. “It has been a while.” Since seventh grade, he thinks, when he’d tendered his club resignation. Just after he and Rin had broken each other’s spirits. Just before he’d broken Ikuya’s.

Something must show in Haruka’s expression, or maybe it’s because Asahi’s still stiff with his shock, because Natsuya gives a light chuckle and tells them both to relax before asking how they’ve been.

“Fine,” Haruka replies, and Asahi echoes him, but Haruka feels that more needs to be said because, while they _are_ , there’s still a part of them that isn’t, a part that feels he owes apology to Ikuya’s older brother for. “Natsuya-senpai. Ikuya,” he begins, and then he forces himself to look up. “I—” but Natsuya cuts him off with a warm clasp of his shoulder.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything,” he assures with a squeeze. “I know that you and Asahi are doing everything you can. And I’m pulling for you.” He pats Haruka’s shoulder before releasing him, then gives Asahi a wave before he heads down into the bleachers and they continue to the locker room.

“The best _we_ can, huh,” Asahi mutters, and then he glances at Haru. “I still feel badly that it’s all fallen to you. And don’t you say it’s your fault so it should!” he cuts Haruka off when Haruka parts his lips to speak. “We all had some part to play in it.”

Haruka hums noncommittally and leaves it; it’s something they’re just going to have to live with disagreeing on. And he really doesn’t feel like rehashing the argument. They both have other things to focus on.

The air in the locker room is charged with inane chatter and nervous energy. Haruka tries not to give into it in the short time it takes to grab a locker and shove his bag into it, but it’s hard. He, like everyone there, has a lot riding on today’s outcomes, and he’s glad that he’s still in the habit of wearing his jammers under his clothing when he knows that he’ll be swimming, as it’s that much less time that he’ll have to deal with the chaos.

In a matter of seconds, Haruka is out of the locker room and back in the hallway, and he takes a slow, subtle breath, draws in the relative silence. It isn’t long before the rest of the team starts to join him, but they’re at least quieter, even if their energy is just as frantic. They meet up with the girls and, as one, the group from Hidaka enters the pool area and finds their spot in the bleachers.

Before too long, the sponsors officially open the competition. Asahi, sitting next to him, draws up straight again as he had when they’d been looking at the pool, but there’s pride in there as well this time, with the awestruck anxiety. It’s a visual echo of what Haruka’s feeling, too, as they finally stand on the metaphorical starting block. The competitions start and time seems to fly until, before Haruka knows it, he has to leave to shower and then queue up for the 100 meter.

“You’ve got this, Haru!” Asahi hisses excitedly, eyes sparkling with his confidence and excitement, and Haruka murmurs his thanks with a slight upturn of lips before settling his expression and leaving his seat in a mixture of hope and confidence. The only true challenge he’s ever faced in the 100 is about 8 hours away on an entirely different continent. But he’s never swum at this level before.

There’s a brief moment when Haruka steps onto the block, strangers on either side of him in an aquaplex full of strangers, that the earlier anxiety briefly surges. But then they’re told to take their marks, he makes ready for his dive, the starting signal sounds… it’s as rote, as familiar to Haruka as his morning and evening routines, and it fades everything away save for the swimming; the _water_ and his connection to it.

Haruka not only takes first in his heat, but in the 100-meter finals as well.

There’s no hand to help him out of the water, nobody flying at him for a hug, but Haruka’s team, his coach, are ecstatic for him, Asahi almost feverishly so. While part of Haruka admittedly misses the intimacy he’s always shared with Makoto at the pool’s edge, of their little team back home, he can’t help but feel it, too, to give into the freer smiles and even some laughs. It _is_ exciting, and he _is_ proud of himself, and these are the people he shares the water with now. And wasn’t that what that relay so long ago had been all about anyway? Creating bonds through the water, some of which will last, will support him, through his lifetime?

He’s already seeing sights with these men that he’s never seen before.

The time to queue up for the 200 meter seems to come right on the heels of Haruka’s victory. He wishes it would have been a bit longer, at least long enough to come further down from his 100-meter high before the anxiety over this new race could prickle through him. The combination of the two leaves him feeling odd. Off. In even worse of a tangle than he had before his first heat. As he takes a breath to try and calm, he absently scans the bleachers, and then he freezes, eyes going wide, when he _actually finds Makoto._ He hadn’t even been looking for him; after all, the chance of finding his best friend in a crowd this size had to be one in a million. But there he is, and Haruka can tell from Makoto’s smile, his unwavering gaze, that Makoto sees him, too. As they hold eyes, _everything_ calms. Grounds out. Haruka finds his center again, ends up beating the base time, missing first by a _hundredth_ of a second, and qualifying for the All-Japan in the 200-meter, too.

Knowing now where Makoto is, Haruka seeks him out as soon as he’s out of the water. He’s a bit closer from this vantage point, can see the emotion in his boyfriend’s pretty eyes, the fierce love and pride, the different sort of brightness that tells that Makoto’s verging on tears from the force of what he’s feeling. Instead of slowing, Haruka’s breaths come a bit faster, and _oh_ , he wishes he could go to him. Not to hear the words; he can just _fine_ from the way that Makoto is looking at him. But to be swept up in the hug he knows that Makoto is aching to give him, to tell Makoto that he’d done so well in the 200 meter because of _him_. His rock. His grounding point. His anchor. But he can’t. There are still events before the noon break and, even then, they’ll be very much in public, so he turns his gaze away and hurries to the locker room to shower so that he can be in his seat before Asahi’s 50-meter.

Asahi wins his heat only to end up tying with Tono in the final. It’s a great time and the team celebrates the win as vociferously as they had every other. Asahi is pleased, but there’s an undercurrent of frustration there as well, that Haruka has to believe wouldn’t have been had it been _anyone else_ that he’d tied with.

As the team turn their attention to the first of the breast races, Haruka and Asahi slip out and to the makeshift cafeteria that one of the indoor gymnasiums has been converted into so that Haruka can have plenty of time to eat and recover before the IM, the first set of heats after the midday break. Haruka glances around, hoping to see Makoto, but he doesn’t, just group after group of strangers come trickling in.

“Let’s head outside,” Asahi murmurs, and he smiles a bit when he sees Haruka’s reluctance. “I told Kisumi to look for us in the courtyard if they don’t find us here.” Haruka looks at him in surprise, but then smiles a bit in thanks as he nods, and they wend their way through the crowds and outside to find a spot to eat. The courtyard is filled, too, and as the two of them work on their bentos, Asahi monitors his phone—Haruka’s is still in his locker—as Haruka keeps his eyes peeled for a familiar head of brown or pink above ‘most anyone else’s.

“Crap. The cafeteria was for participants only,” Asahi explains about fifteen minutes in. “They’re heading out to the street vendors now, but Kisumi says the lines are horrid.” Haruka presses his lips against his disappointment and nods, resigning himself to seeing Makoto once the races are over. Because Makoto and Kisumi do have to eat, and Haruka knows that neither of them will want to miss a minute of the afternoon’s competitions.

He and Asahi keep a fairly quiet watch as they finish their lunches, but there comes a point when Asahi glances at his phone and then sighs and looks up at Haruka. Haruka just nods and gives a quiet _ah_ as response before standing and following Asahi back toward the complex.

“Haru! Asahi!” They turn as one as the call wafts across the complex. It’s Kisumi’s voice, but all Haruka sees is Makoto, face red from a combination of the attention they’ve drawn and their obvious exertion as they slow to a walk. “I told you they’d hear me!” Haruka hears Kisumi tell Makoto as a group of Hidaka team members push by them, all of them amused and some of them chuckling as the two—with whom most of the team are familiar by sight, even if they don’t know exactly who they are to Haruka and Asahi—finally come to a stop.

“So did the whole courtyard!” Makoto laments at the same time Asahi says the same exact thing to chastise his boyfriend, but they’re both smiling, Makoto and Asahi, and Haruka can’t bring himself to be irritated with Kisumi, either, despite the slight bit of heat in his own cheeks from the attention.

“So? We got to you before you got inside and we couldn’t,” Kisumi counters, and none of them can argue that. Except—

“Yeah, but we have to go!”

“I know,” Makoto replies, and Haruka can tell he feels bad; Asahi hadn’t exactly hidden his disappointment, and he’s sure that Makoto’s picking it up from him, too.

“It’s fine,” he says before Makoto can offer further apology for something that wasn’t his fault. Makoto shifts his gaze to Haruka, who gives him a slight smile. “It’s our first time through something this big; we’ll know better for next time. And you managed it despite everything, even if it’s just for a minute. It’s nice.”

“Haru—”

“Nanase! Shigino!”

“Coming!” Asahi calls back, and Haruka knows they can’t spare any more time. He looks to Makoto one last time for assurance before turning to take off, only to find his wrist lightly grabbed.

“I’m _so proud of you,_ Haru-chan _!”_ Makoto tells him even as he’s already letting him go, and it’s rushed, and whispered, but so genuine and fierce that it heats Haruka through and through, makes him feel as if he can do anything. Which is good. Because his IM against Ikuya is up next. And, in its own way, there’s more riding on that race than any other.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loss is a win, a promise is kept, and Haru learns what a hero is.

As soon as Haruka is in the locker room, he has to strip off. He’ll have just enough time for a brief warmup and then his rinse off before he’s due to queue up for the IM. The rest of the team is hurriedly filtering through as the first heat is already on the starting block; Asahi pauses to clap him on the shoulder and tell him he’s got confidence in him, and then Haruka’s by himself. He’s glad he hadn’t waited any longer to eat, because anticipation tightens through his stomach. And it has nothing to do with the race itself. He’s confident in his skill with the strokes. But if this, if _he_ , fails to reach Ikuya, then he has no idea what they’ll do.

Haruka stands under the shower as long as he dares and then heads to the pool deck. He can see Ikuya’s head a few swimmers before him and that anxiety prickles again. As the competitors from the heat before theirs come past after exiting the pool, Haruka moves forward with the rest of his group. Ikuya stares straight ahead as he takes his block, completely unaware of Haruka as he moves behind him to his own. It takes a bit more force to push down those nerves this time as he steps up, but he does so; from the corner of his eye, he sees Ikuya glance at him, and then, finally, _look._

“Haru!” Ikuya gasps, shock and uncertainty in his tone, so surprised that he can’t feign that flat and cool indifference. “What…”

Haruka glances sidelong at Ikuya when Ikuya stalls out. “I knew it was the only way, the only chance to swim with you again,” he says quietly, and then he turns his head to look at him fully. “Don’t say you can do it alone, Ikuya. Because you’re _not_ alone.”

Ikuya’s breath catches and then his eyes waver; he briefly licks his lower lip and then parts them again, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything more because the whistle sounds. That suits Haruka just fine. Neither of them needs their emotions to surge any higher than what they have. They have a race to win, and they can, hopefully, talk a bit after—clear up anything the water doesn’t communicate between them as they swim.

They’re called to take their marks, and Haruka closes his eyes and draws a calming breath as he takes his position. The pistol sounds and he makes his dive, surfaces into the pull component of the butterfly. Out of them all, he’d been least familiar with this and he’d spent the most time with Azuma on it. He wonders, for a second, what Rei would think, or Rin; what Asahi thinks as he watches him, and then the water pulls his attention to the lane beside him. To Ikuya’s lane.

Ikuya is struggling, fighting the water—likely fighting something within himself, Haruka thinks grimly, and he wonders what it is, if he’ll ever find out. He hopes so, hopes that Ikuya can sense his concern, his desire to put things to rights between them. But he can’t spare any more time on it. He’s nearing the wall and the swimmer to his right is going to beat him to it.

He does, but not by much, nothing that Haruka can’t make up between his quick, tidy turn and the lap of backstroke. Next to his crawl, it’s the one he’s most comfortable with, the only stroke he’d ever voluntarily swum beyond free. Granted, not often, but he can still recall how it had made Makoto smile when he would, and his heart warms as he thinks about the mornings that he and Makoto had spent more recently with Makoto tutoring him in it. Haruka hopes that he’s doing his boyfriend proud in his chosen stroke.

Haruka’s strong, smooth rhythm brings him to the wall well before Ikuya, but he finds no joy in it as he turns and frog kicks into the breast lap. He wants to do well, of course he does, but he’s equally as hopeful that Ikuya will find his stride in this lap, breast being Ikuya’s main and all. _I’m sorry,_ Haruka asks the water to convey. _I left the water, left **you** , with no explanation. But I’m back. I’m here now; we’re swimming together again. You’re not alone. _

And the water changes. There’s a burst of energy as Ikuya breaks free from whatever has been restraining him, and with his next forward arm stroke, the turbulence eases. Ikuya cuts through the water, certain and smooth, and Haruka feels the difference in his own water, feels the weight as it’s carried away from him. And it’s a good thing because, suddenly, Ikuya’s right there beside him as he touches the wall and kicks into his crawl.

Ikuya is at Haruka’s side when he surfaces, never leaves it as they cut across the pool. Haruka knows that he should be more concerned. He has no clue which of them will touch the pad first, but all he can do is smile because, to him, he’s already won. A feeling of joy is returned to him on strokes just different enough from his own that they truly are Ikuya’s, and his smile widens briefly before it fades and he pours even that bit of energy into trying to reach the wall first.

It’s close. He’s only had two races closer; the one where he’d tied with Rin and the one where he’d beaten him by two-tenths of a second. But this time, this time he loses the heat to Ikuya. He doesn’t make the qualifying time, either, but he’s just _barely_ outside it, and he’s proud of how he’s done. Both in the race and with Ikuya.

“Haru.” Ikuya sounds like a different person when he calls Haruka’s name this time, like the old Ikuya, _their_ Ikuya, even though his voice has matured. “Tadaima,” he says with a shy, happy smile when Haruka turns to face him,

“Okaeri,” Haruka returns, heart warmed, and then he smiles himself a bit as he brings his hand out of the water, crooks his little finger. “After all this time, I finally got to keep the promise I made.”

Ikuya’s entire expression changes. His smile falters as his lips part, his eyes go wide with shock and Haruka can see that his words have caused tears to rise. “You remembered?” he asks on a sort of gasped whisper, and Haruka’s heart clenches, from Ikuya’s pain, from his own guilt for how much his actions all those years back had caused Ikuya to doubt him. Because there’d been a time when he’d considered Ikuya as close to him as Rin, maybe closer, for the similarities in their personalities.

“I’ve never forgotten that promise,” he avows quietly, heart aching harder when Ikuya’s tears rise until they threaten to fall. There are a few seconds when Ikuya just stands there, struggling, both with his emotions and with what to do, but then he gasps Haruka’s name as he starts openly crying, and he flings himself at Haruka.

For a second or two, Haruka’s too shocked to react, but then he breathes, relaxes, brings a loose arm up around Ikuya’s waist and lets Ikuya cry against his shoulder. It isn’t even a minute before Ikuya gathers himself enough to let go; Haruka smiles at him encouragingly and they get themselves out of the pool. They don’t say a lot as they head to the locker room, or even when they reach it; it isn’t until they’ve showered off and are putting their team suits back on that Ikuya peeks a head around the bank of lockers between them and tentatively starts a conversation, tells him that he’d seen and spoken to Asahi before their IM heat.

“I’ve been so cold to so many from being so lost,” he quietly says, and then, with a smile, “But Asahi, he’s not changed, has he?”

“Don’t tell him that,” Haruka retorts, though he’s filled with fondness for their friend. He can tell from Ikuya’s words, his expression, that Asahi had forgiven Ikuya’s behavior without question. Not that it surprises him. “He thinks he’s a _mature man_ ,” he continues wryly and with finger quotes, which makes Ikuya laugh.

“Still, it must have been nice to learn that you were swimming on the same team again.”

Haruka’s expression softens into a slight upturn of lips before he catches it, but then he _does,_ and he quickly turns his head away. “Only because I don’t have to share a room with some stranger when we travel,” he declares.

Ikuya laughs again. “Haru hasn’t changed any, either.”

Haruka gives a noncommittal sound as he puts his bag into his locker. He has, but now’s not the time or place to get into it. They can talk about those things later as they get to know one another again.

“Does he still snore like he did at that training camp?” Ikuya asks with a grin as they head out, and Haruka smirks and gives a single nod.

“Only when he’s really tired, though,” he admits as they walk over to one of the benches by the window. His expression softens as he thinks about that camp, and then he glances up at Ikuya again, suddenly curious about something. “Remember the shooting stars we saw?”

“The meteor shower?”

“Ah.”

“Mm.”

“What did you wish for?” Haruka asks, and he really, truly hopes that, whatever it had been, it had come true; that Ikuya has had _some_ positives, some bits of light— that he hadn’t spent all those years as lost as he’s looked and sounded.

Ikuya looks at him in surprise, then lightly licks his lower lip before parting them to respond.

“There you guys are!”

Haruka looks up at Asahi’s voice and his eyes briefly widen with surprised pleasure when he sees that Makoto is with him.

“Asahi, Makoto.” Ikuya sounds as astonished as Haruka feels, and Haruka can only think that they’d both had the same idea of seeking them out and had incidentally met in the large hallway.

“Congratulations on your win, Ikuya!” Makoto offers, voice and expression full of genuine joy, and Haruka loves him for it, for how readily he forgives and moves on when it comes to—well, most everyone, but especially those he cares about. Makoto shifts his gaze to Haruka then as Asahi comments on what a great race it had been, and the way Makoto looks at him, so full of pride and love… Haruka knows that he did well even though he’d lost, but to see it so strongly in Makoto brings heat to Haruka’s cheeks and he’s glad that Asahi and Ikuya are focused on each other. Makoto’s expression shifts to a tender sort of amusement and Haruka has to look away, he wants to kiss that look off of him so badly.

“What were you guys talking about?” Makoto asks when Asahi and Ikuya pause, likely hoping to keep them occupied long enough for Haruka to regain his composure. But Ikuya hesitates in answering, so Haruka provides response before they can look to him for _not_ replying.

“The training camp and what we wished for during that meteor shower.”

“Haru!” Ikuya sputters and it’s enough to make Haruka forget his own flustered state; he looks up at Ikuya and his brows arch slightly at how agitated Ikuya seems to be.

Now he’s _really_ curious about that wish.

Asahi teasingly prods Ikuya for it and Makoto admits to his own curiosity; Ikuya rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment, but then he sighs and drops his hand. “I wished that I could be like Haru,” he says, and Haruka’s heart aches slightly. He recalls how Ikuya had struggled with finding himself back then, how it had made him feel when it had seemed to him that Natsuya had been more focused on Haruka than him.

But Haruka quickly finds out that he’s way off base in his assumption as to where Ikuya’s mind had been.

“I wanted to be a hero like him.”

“Hero?” Haruka echoes incredulously before he can stop himself, and Ikuya nods.

“Mm. Not the type that fights evil, but someone that’s always there when someone feels lost or stuck,” he explains with that soft, shy smile from before, “The kind of hero that people look up to.”

“What…” Haruka doesn’t know if he’s more stunned or embarrassed—until Makoto softly laughs and calls him out for the latter. “Be quiet. I am not,” he declares even as he looks way from all of them, and he briefly wonders what he’s gotten himself into now that they’re all back together again. Something occurs to him, then, and he glances back to Ikuya. “You never know. You might be someone’s hero already, Ikuya,” he offers, thinking about that Tono guy and what a pain in the ass he’s been. It could explain why he’d been so overly protective, Haruka thinks.

“Haru’s right; you could be and might not even know it,” Makoto softly says, and Haruka’s certain he’s thinking the same as him. “Just like Haru,” Makoto then tacks on with a teasing glance and laugh, and Haruka rolls his eyes, scowls slightly, mutters his name in warning.

“Heroes don’t see themselves as heroes. That’s what makes them heroes,” Asahi declares with a clap of his hands, and then he gives a cocky smile. “I wrapped that up nicely, eh?”

Whether he truly thinks so or is just pulling the attention away from Haruka and to himself, Haruka doesn’t know, but either way, it does the latter, and for that, he’s grateful. Ikuya lightly pokes at Asahi for acting so smug and they all have a bit of a laugh, and then Makoto reluctantly mentions that they should head back. “I’m sure Ikuya has things to talk to his other friends about before his next race,” he says softly, and Ikuya nods.

“Go on, then,” Asahi encourages.

Ikuya nods again, then takes off, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll look for you after!”

Makoto and Asahi call back their agreements, and then Asahi turns to Haru, tells him that they should head back, too, before it’s time to prep for the freestyle relay. Haruka absently agrees, still staring after Ikuya, still turning over Ikuya’s words in his head; he doesn’t really even realize that Asahi’s taken off until Makoto calls his name. “Are you alright?” he asks when Haruka blinks and looks up at him.

“I’m just thinking about what Ikuya said,” he replies, and then he glances away, looks back again. “Am I really his hero, do you think?” he hesitantly asks. _He_ can’t see it, but he knows that Makoto will be honest with him.

“Haru.” Makoto gives him a warm smile and nods. “I don’t think he’d have said it otherwise. And you’re not just Ikuya’s, I’m sure.” Haruka’s confusion deepens and Makoto softly laughs. “I just mean that Ikuya’s not the only one who’s looked up to you. Who you’ve inspired. Nagisa. Rei. Rin, after a fashion. Misaki and the other kids at the rec center. Me,” he adds with a quick, shy smile. “We’re all who we are in the water because of you. Beyond that, you’re a good person, Haru. You love those you let close to you so dearly, and we know you’d do anything for us. And you’ve shown so many that you can be strong and independent without becoming hard and harsh. And then…”

Haruka looks up when Makoto stalls out, curious enough to push past the mixture of embarrassment and awe over what Makoto has shared and quietly ask, “And then?” His brow furrows softly and his head tilts slightly when Makoto goes a deep pink. “Makoto?”

“Well, you’re both kinds of hero to me. On top of everything you are, and everything you do every day, you saved my life, Haru. More than once.”

“Makoto.” Haruka takes a step toward him, stops, clenches his hands into loose fists as he fights that renewed want to kiss him again. “You, too. You’ve saved me, too. More than once. And you’re good, too. Better than anyone I know. Better than I could ever be.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Haru.” Makoto laughs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation, and then it dissipates into a look of such longing that Haruka _knows_ what’s on his mind before he even says, “I need to go. Now, before I do something I really shouldn’t even be thinking about here.” He gives Haruka a quick smile then turns, but he stops when Haruka calls his name. “Hm?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Just a few more hours,” he says, letting his eyes convey what he doesn’t dare say; they’re alone in this space, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others within hearing range in one of the other corridors. Makoto picks up on it; he can tell from how his lashes fall to shade a slightly darker green.

“Mm. Not too long at all,” he agrees before turning forward again and walking off.

Haruka watches him for a moment, taking in his broad shoulders and strong back, his ass and long legs, and then he heads off himself with a quiet sigh. Just a few more hours, yes, but that’s only until the competition is done. _I’ll look for you after,_ Ikuya had said and, while Haruka truly is happy for how things have turned out and can’t begrudge the spur of the moment change in plans—they’ve been waiting for this since learning back in May that Ikuya was in Tokyo and swimming, after all—there’s a small selfish part of him that hopes that nobody can hang out _too_ long. Because, with having to catch the early train tomorrow and the competition running all day, he and Makoto hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together before his month away to begin with.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which apologies are made, the air is cleared, and team Iwatobi Junior High is finally in synch again.

Haruka does his best to stay still and patient as Coach finishes his quick debrief, but his mind isn’t on what he’s saying. Truly, his distraction isn’t personal, and it isn’t anything new. Haruka has always been like this. Once the swimming is done, he’s ready to be done as well. This time, though, he’ll admit to being extra distracted. He keeps mulling over what still needs done before he catches the train tomorrow and wishing that he was already on the steps at the east entrance, which is where Kisumi had texted Asahi that he and Makoto would be.

“Right, then,” ( _Finally,_ Haruka thinks!) “With the exception of those heading to Chiba, we’ll see the rest of you at the main entrance, 0700 sharp, tomorrow morning!” And, with a reminder about proper eating and rest, Coach lets them go.

“Finally!” Asahi mutters, and Haruka nods. They veer off from the rest of their team, and Haruka feels himself breathe a little easier when they’re out of the main lobby, which had been crowded with other schools and spectators. “I hope Ikuya won’t be too long,” Asahi says, and his voice is just different enough from his excited one from before that Haruka glances at him in question. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m eager as hell to talk to him after all this time. But well, I know that _I’m_ tired, and I get to go home and go to bed. You’ve probably got stuff to do first—unless you’re some sort of super-nerd who’s already packed, or something,” he tacks on teasingly, and Haruka rolls his eyes.

“Not quite.”

Asahi grins. “Didn’t think so.” The gesture softens. “Plus, I’m sure you and Makoto want some time, for as long as you’re going to be gone.”

Haruka’s cheeks warm, but not into a blaze like they would have a while back. He’s comfortable talking to Asahi about this, glad that he has someone close to him that he _can_. Someone who understands. “Ah.”

“We’ll look out for him for you, Kisumi and me,” Asahi promises firmly, and Haruka’s filled with gratitude. It isn’t that Makoto needs babysitting, or to be taken care of, and he has made _some_ friends at Meiju. Of course he has. He’s _Makoto_. But those people only know _that_ Makoto, kind and friendly and hard-working, yes, but not the part of him that stresses and worries and _over_ -works. They don’t know the Makoto who’s still a bit afraid of the dark and more afraid of storms, who is still shy enough that he’d suffer through it all alone, including his loneliness, before bothering even his closest friends, let alone reaching out to someone that he, truly, barely knows.

“Asahi.” Haruka’s text tone goes off before he can fumble through expressing his gratitude. It’s not Makoto’s, and he’d usually ignore it until the next time he _needed_ his phone, but it’s a distraction from the feelings threatening to overwhelm him, so he digs it out of his pocket. “Thanks,” he does murmur, and sincerely, with a glance over at his friend, but then he looks just as quickly to his screen as he opens it. His brows arch slightly. It’s his father, and that _never_ happens. It’s always his mother that reaches out when they do, and he feels a flicker of anticipation; wonders if they’ve made a decision about the coach. But that isn’t what it’s about.

_Where did you place today?_

“Everything alright?”

Haruka blinks; he glances up at Asahi and nods. He feels a bit foolish for how his expression must have changed, but he can’t really do anything about it now. “It’s my dad, asking how I did today,” he offers, which is the truth, just a bit warmer version of it, and he doesn’t know how he can attribute warmth or coolness to words on a screen, but it’s just _there._

“Cool! Well, except for the free-relay,” Asahi mutters, and Haruka gets it. They’d all thought they’d have a chance for the All-Japan when they’d beaten Shimo, but there had been other teams that had been _just enough_ better.

“And the IM,” Haruka reminds as he quickly sends back his placings for the 100 & 200 meter free, and how the team as a whole had done in the relay. He doesn’t mention the IM, though; they hadn’t been aware he’d been competing in it and he doesn’t think they’d understand his motive. He sees the dots that tell him his father is typing back and waits; then shuts his phone off and slips it back into his pocket after reading the _well done_ he gets in return.

“Haru?”

“It’s nothing. We didn’t do _that_ poorly in the relay, though,” he continues before Asahi can ask further, because he doesn’t know how he’d put whatever it is he’s feeling from the exchange into words anyway. “For mostly first-years and all.”

“No.” Asahi smiles. “And it was good to be in the water with Ikuya again.”

“Ah.” Haruka thinks about his leg, about swimming with Tono. He'd been trying to prove something through the first half, but his swimming had changed in the second, and he’d seemed just a _bit_ of a different person after he’d pulled himself out of the pool. It makes Haruka wonder what Tono had picked up about him through his swimming, but then they’re at the doors and he can see Makoto’s head through the upper glass, and he lets the thought go.

“There you guys are!” Kisumi greets when they step outside, and Makoto softly laughs.

“I tried to tell him how coaches are after a big meet like this, but I guess that, until you experience it yourself…” He trails off and then grins at them both. “Asahi. Haru. You both did so well today. You’ve really worked hard!”

There’s something in Makoto’s eyes, just the briefest of flickers, and Haruka’s head tilts slightly, but then Makoto’s asking if they’d managed to let Ikuya know where they’d be.

“Ah. I grabbed him for a sec after the relay,” Asahi shares, and Kisumi smiles, eagerness sparking in his eyes.

“I’m so glad. I can’t wait to see him. I’m always behind the three of you, it seems,” he laments, and Haruka’s brow arches slightly.

“That’s your fault for picking basketball over swimming.”

“Hey. Hey!” Kisumi says a bit more loudly and petulantly when both Asahi and Makoto laugh.

“Hey!” The call comes like an echo to Kisumi’s, and all three of them turn to the right. Ikuya’s jogging lightly toward them, though he then slows, a bit of shyness creeping into his eyes; Haruka can only assume it’s because Kisumi’s with them and Ikuya’s not had a chance to be around him yet after everything. Not that he has to worry. Kisumi greets Ikuya with the same overwhelming friendliness and familiarity as he had when he’d reunited with himself and Makoto the year before, and as Ikuya settles onto the steps beside them, it’s as if they’re back at Iwatobi Jr. High again for how easy it feels between them all.

“Where’s your friend?” Kisumi asks after several minutes have passed, and Ikuya looks surprised, but then smiles a bit.

“He said he was going to get a drink and then wait for me up front. I told him he didn’t have to, but…”

“He’s a stubborn guy,” Asahi says dryly, though he just as quickly pinks and apologizes sheepishly.

“You’re not wrong,” Ikuya says with a slight smile, and then he looks up when Kisumi stands.

“Kisumi?” Asahi asks, and Kisumi smiles down at them.

“I’m gonna go find him, I think. He’s got to be wondering where he stands now that the team’s back together again. And if anyone can tell him that the four of you aren’t anything to be afraid of, it’s me,” he says lightly and with a wink.

“Kisumi,” Asahi and Ikuya both murmur as Kisumi turns away, and then they look at each other and grin a bit. Makoto softly laughs and Haruka himself can’t help but smile. A lot has changed but, more and more, it becomes apparent that some things haven’t. And that’s good.

“Ne, you don’t think we ever made him feel left out, do you?” Ikuya murmurs as he gazes after Kisumi’s back. Haruka’s brows arch and Asahi snorts softly.

“He never gave us the chance to with how he was always interjecting himself,” he declares, but with a look of such fondness in his eyes that Haruka thinks he may just give himself away. He briefly wonders how Ikuya will react when he finds out about them, about Makoto and him, but then,

“Not deliberately.” They all look to Makoto, who smiles a bit. “He did feel left out some, I think, but only because he moved in a different circle than we did.”

“Did he tell you that?” Asahi asks almost plaintively, and Makoto’s smile gentles, even as he shakes his head.

“Not in so many words, no. But being on the outer edge of things myself now—”

“Makoto,” Haruka breathes without thought, and Makoto quickly shakes his head.

“It’s fine, Haru. It was my decision to step back from competition, right? Just like it was Kisumi’s to choose basketball. Neither you nor Asahi have ever once made me feel like I wasn’t still part of things, I swear. It’s just something that comes with the shift, and I get how Kisumi must have felt… and how Tono-kun probably does now, now that the five of us have reconciled.” Makoto’s smile brightens a bit again. “So, we’ll just have to be sure and make a point to include him, like we did Kisumi back then. Like you and Asahi do Kisumi and me, now.”

“If he wants to be included.” They all look at Asahi, who colors again slightly and shrugs, but doesn’t apologize this time. “I’m just saying. He wasn’t exactly nice in how he tried to protect Ikuya. He was really rude to Makoto, and flat out ugly to Haru.”

“Asahi,” Makoto says pleadingly, and Asahi shrugs again.

“He was.”

A troubled look fills Ikuya’s eyes and he looks away, briefly draws his lips in to moisten them. The air is suddenly as tense between them as it had been easy just minutes before, and while Haruka knows that it’s needed clearing, he feels almost sick with it nonetheless. He’s always loathed confrontation, and just because he’s matured enough to know that, sometimes, it’s necessary, it doesn’t make it any easier for him to deal with.

“I’ve been ugly, too,” Ikuya says, staring at his knees, which he’s drawn up to his chest. “To Haru directly, but to all of you, too. I’ve known for a while what Hiyori was doing and, in his defense, he asked me if it was alright. I could have stopped him, and I think he really would have,” he adds with a quick glance to Asahi. “But I didn’t. I didn’t want to handle it. Or think about it, really,” he continues, still quietly, but in a heavier tone. “It was just easier to let him; to just focus on swimming. But then I couldn’t,” he earnestly blurts, and he suddenly looks up at the three of them. “After I saw Haru that night, swimming just made me think about it more, about the four of us, and the promises, and how I knew deep down that Asahi couldn’t help having to move, and that _something_ had to have happened with Haru, and that, Makoto, you probably really _did_ have to help with the twins. But I just buried all that away because the hurt gave me an excuse to isolate myself and not try again.”

“But then how do you explain Tono?” Asahi asks after several seconds pass, and Ikuya’s lips just briefly curve up again.

“I was fine at first. Really. I was confused and hurt by Haru, especially after our promise,” he admits, and Haruka’s stomach twists again, even after Makoto shifts just enough to where Haruka can feel the light brush and warmth of his leg behind him. Actually, the discreet comfort makes him hurt more, because Haruka knows that Makoto had been confused and hurt back then, too. But he and Makoto cleared that air long ago, so Haruka does his best to swallow it down and focus on Ikuya. “But I did understand you and Makoto, Asahi.” Ikuya’s smile returns, slightly wider this time. “And I was excited to join my brother and to see America. I met Hiyori not long after I got there, and when I found out he used to live in Iwatobi—”

“No way!” Asahi breathes, and Ikuya nods.

“Not for long, but yeah. And it seemed like I had a piece of home with me, too, despite being so far away. It was good.” He sobers then. “And then I had another oxygen deprivation incident. A worse one than when I was with you guys. I about died, and I hadn’t really fully recovered from that when my brother left again.”

Haruka mentally winces as Ikuya’s gaze drops again. They all know that Ikuya had suffered some pretty strong feelings of abandonment when Natsuya had pushed him out of his shadow all those years ago. He has no doubt how Ikuya, who had likely already been questioning his strength as a result of his near death, had perceived Natsuya’s leaving. 

“All I could think was that it was because I was weak and a burden,” Ikuya continues, confirming Haruka’s thought. “And before long, that’s how I was looking at everything, including our team breaking up.”

“Your mind will make you believe anything when you’re lost in the dark.” It might sound like general conversation to the others, something that Makoto’s picked up through his preliminary psychology, but Haruka’s heart clenches and his stomach churns at Makoto’s quiet words. All he can see in his mind is the two of them, as boys, at the edge of the ocean, Makoto talking about how useless he was and going someplace where Haruka can’t follow.

“Mm,” Ikuya says softly, and then after a moment, “But by then, Hiyori and I had been friends for a while and, well…”

“He’s a pretty stubborn guy,” Asahi finishes for him, but it’s gentler this time, understanding. He sighs softly. “No wonder he acted how he did. I’m glad he didn’t let you push him away from you.”

They fall into silence then, the four of them, not really uncomfortable, just contemplative. Haruka thinks about how Tono had treated him, the hurtful things that he’d said; thinks about the times he’s lashed out to protect Makoto. He thinks again about the change he’d felt in the water in the relay, how Hiyori had seemed different afterward. He thinks about forgiveness and how it’s been given to him so many times when he hasn’t felt it warranted, and decides he needs to leave the door open to it, to see if Tono seeks it, if not by directly asking then through his subsequent actions and words.

“It will be alright,” Haruka offers after another minute passes. Everyone looks at him and he goes warm with the discomfort of having the focus on him, but he doesn’t turn his head away. “We will be. All of us. I think Tono knows we never meant to hurt Ikuya. Maybe because he’s been in the water with all of us now. But I can tell. I could in the relay.”

“The water told you, ne?”

“Ah,” Haruka replies earnestly and with a nod before he sees the hint of teasing in Asahi’s eyes, and _then_ his face warms. “Be quiet,” he mutters, and they all softly laugh before Makoto turns the subject to something safer, less personal; to how well they’d all done today.

“You should see if your teams can practice together sometime,” he suggests after a few minutes of talk about training and what they’d felt had paid off for them.

It’s a good idea, Haruka thinks. He knows that they’d benefited from their joint practices with Samezuka. “I can talk to our captain,” he offers, and Ikuya nods.

“Me too. Our practices are tough, though. Think you can handle it, Asahi?” he asks in the same tone with which he’d teased Asahi as they’d taken their blocks at the relay. Asahi’s eyes light with happiness even as he gives it back, comes up with some ridiculous training that he challenges Ikuya to keep up with.

“Now now, you two,” Makoto chides in amusement as the two of them take off, but they speak over him.

“The past has nothing to do with today!” Asahi retorts when Ikuya brings up his childhood behaviors. “Wait. I mean—well, you all know what I mean!” he blusters when they all just sort of gape at him, and then the four of them laugh, even Haruka a bit. It fades into a warm comfort, and then, after a moment, Makoto softly sighs.

“Fun as this is, we probably should go. Tono-kun and Kisumi are waiting, and the three of you have an early morning again.”

They all agree, Haruka slightly less reluctantly than the other two; they head around to where Ikuya had said Tono was waiting and, sure enough, Kisumi is with him. The two of them seem to be comfortably chatting, and Asahi’s lips curve softly as he just gazes at his boyfriend—until Haruka gives him a subtle nudge.

“Hey!” Haruka arches a brow and tips his chin toward Kisumi, and Asahi’s eyes go wide and he colors.

“Hm?” Ikuya asks, and Asahi’s mouth works silently for a moment; Haruka knows he should feel badly for inadvertently putting him on the spot, but he’s more amused than anything.

“Uh… we should all meet up at _Marron_ sometime soon; celebrate how we all did,” he comes up with, and Haruka has to give him credit—plus, it’ll be good for Makoto, he thinks. One night that he’ll know that Makoto will be out and having fun, anyway. His brow furrows slightly as he thinks again on how long he’ll be gone, but then he looks up in surprise when Ikuya suddenly congratulates him.

“For being recommended for the training camp,” he explains to Haruka’s silent question, and then he laughs a bit when it just confuses him more. “Makoto told us.” Ikuya relents. “I don’t blame you for being a bit out of it, though. It’s been a long day and you’ve got a lot ahead of you.”

“Ah.” Haruka gives him a small, grateful smile.

“Ikuya.” They look at Tono, who nods toward the street; apparently the bus that’s approaching is for their line, because Ikuya sighs a bit then nods. They say their goodbyes and as they walk away, Makoto turns back to Kisumi and Asahi.

“We need to go, too.”

“Same here. It is getting late.”

“Mm. Pick you up in the morning again, Makoto? I know where Haru lives, you know,” Kisumi reminds with that sly, foxy smile that makes Makoto color and Haruka roll his eyes. They both know it’s harmless, though, and Makoto nods and thanks him. They offer waves and then turn to walk off, finally alone, and Haruka takes a soft breath and exhales.

“I’m glad to be going, too,” Makoto says softly as they make their way toward their stop. “But, the time spent was worth it.”

Haruka thinks about Ikuya, his quiet smile and voice, his gentle teasing. He thinks about how he’d gotten when Asahi had riled him up, all of it just like old times, that dead expression and flat aspect gone. “Ah.” He _is_ glad to be going home, but he really can’t disagree.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which is overrated, new pleasures are shared, and Haruka makes some interesting discoveries. 
> 
> (Rating has changed from ‘M’ to ‘E’)

The bus is crowded, the train back to Haruka’s even more so. There must have been multiple events in the area, Haruka thinks as he tries to _not_ think about how tightly they’re all crammed in, of all the scents and sounds and _bodies_ invading his rather large personal bubble. But then the train jolts, Makoto’s hand comes up to his waist to steady him; he leaves it there, completely unseen, and Haruka thinks there’s _some_ good to it after all.

Haruka typically prefers to cook, but it’s already late as it is, and he doesn’t want to waste any of what little time he has with Makoto. Makoto must be feeling it, too, because he doesn’t question when Haruka briefly diverts them to the yakitori stand on the further side of the park. He does try to argue when Haruka foots the bill, but a single look silences him; with a soft chuckle and thanks, he takes the food that’s handed to them and they quietly eat on the walk back home.

By the time they’re in Haruka’s genkan, they’re both glad to be in for the night. Haruka can tell from how quiet Makoto is, from the almost inaudible sigh he gives as he takes his shoes off. “Go ahead to the shower,” Haruka urges Makoto. “I’ll get the rest of my things together for the trip and take mine after.”

Makoto nods. “I’ll get the bath warming,” he says as he turns away, and Haruka shoots a hand out to lightly grasp his wrist.

“Don’t bother. I’m just going to shower. I’d rather spend the time with Makoto,” he says, feeling the heat creep into his cheeks, though he does manage to not look away.

“Haru.” Makoto turns a bit more, gives him a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “Okay then,” he murmurs against them before straightening.

Haruka lets him go, watches him walk off, then sighs and heads into the main room. He hadn’t been lying earlier; he truly is mostly packed. But, after everything today, even the little bit he has left still seems a chore. He pauses for a moment in front of his bags. There are two of them, plus his bathroom kit; one for his clothing and the other for his books and other miscellaneous things he’ll need for his studies. The former is more important to him than the latter, so he tends to that first. Once that’s done, he chucks his books into the other and then goes over to the storage cube that holds his stationary supplies to grab a blind handful of pens and pencils, some post its and paperclips. With the notebooks already in the bag, Haruka decides that’s good; declaring himself finished, he retreats to the kitchen to pack up what perishables he knows won’t last for Makoto to take with him in the morning.

He’s just finishing up when Makoto comes out, shirtless, towel over his shoulders. He pauses by his backpack, then his shoulders slump slightly and he crouches down in front of it, straightening with one of his texts a second or two later. Haruka makes up his mind that his shower will be quick; Makoto may not have swum, but he’s had a long day, too, and an emotional one. Studying _is_ important, but they’re both tired, and Makoto will have all weekend for it. This is just Makoto guilting himself into not wasting the time it takes for Haruka to be ready for bed. And he doesn’t need that kind of stress.

Besides, Makoto is _shirtless_. Of his own volition and not awkwardly so, and well. It may just be one of the quickest showers Haruka has had in his life.

When Haruka comes back out, Makoto looks up, brows tilted in surprise. “That was fast,” he says as he closes his text and puts it down; Haruka sits beside him and Makoto shifts, arm slipping behind him. He’s warm and smells good, Makoto, and Haruka closes his eyes and just basks in it, rests his head on Makoto’s shoulder. “It’s been a long day for you, huh,” Makoto says softly as he rests his own against Haruka’s. Haruka hums an affirmative, and he can see Makoto’s smile in his mind from how his cheek shifts against his hair. “Did you get everything done you needed?” Makoto asks and Haruka hums again. “’kay. Let’s get you to bed then.”

Makoto lifts his head and gets up to put his book away; Haruka does another quick tousle of his hair as he follows suit to take his towel back to the bathroom. In the few seconds it takes, Makoto has the blanket turned down and is waiting for him with a smile. Haruka turns out the lights as he passes them, leaves the one by the bed for Makoto, and crawls in. Makoto joins him, turns off the lamp, and Haruka curls into his side once he’s settled.

Absently, Makoto starts to run fingers through his hair; it feels nice, Haruka thinks, makes him feel a little breathless as he lays there, drawing in Makoto’s scent, pressed against his bare torso. His skin starts to warm, and not from Makoto’s heat, but just from the skin-to-skin contact. Haruka presses a kiss to Makoto’s jaw, then to his neck, and then another closer to his throat, fingers lightly stroking over Makoto’s chest in a synchronous rhythm.

Makoto softly laughs, it vibrating against Haruka’s mouth. Haruka doesn’t know why, but it makes arousal tug at his abdomen. “Thought you were tired,” Makoto murmurs, fingers stilling at the nape of Haruka’s neck.

Haruka’s cheeks warm slightly for being called out, but he presses another kiss to Makoto’s throat. “I can sleep on the train in the morning,” he mumbles, and then Makoto’s fingers stroke his cheek, pause at his chin to draw his face up.

“I want Haru more than sleep, too,” he says softly, his own cheeks slightly pinked, and then he tips his head to bring their mouths together, tongue sliding into Haruka’s as he rolls onto his side so that he can bring Haruka closer. Haruka willingly presses into his embrace, shifts so that he can slide a hand up Makoto’s arm and into his hair as he chases the kiss into Makoto’s mouth. His fingers tug gently, just enough to earn him a groan, and then Makoto pulls away, taking Haruka’s lower lip in an elongated tug before releasing it to mouth along his jaw as he runs a hand up Haru’s flank to his chest and then thumbs over his nipple.

Haruka draws in a breath, tightens his fingers through Makoto’s hair, arches his chest slightly. He feels Makoto’s lips curve beneath his ear. “You’re so sensitive there, Haru-chan,” he murmurs as he teases over it again, and Haruka’s face burns.

“Stop being embarrassing,” he breathes with the slightest of stammers; Makoto giggles a bit, murmurs an apology, but then he lightly catches it in a pinch between his thumb and finger. “Makoto!” He chuckles again and Haruka can’t stand it; he’s such an _idiot,_ and he loves him _so_ much. Knocking Makoto’s hand away, he pushes Makoto over, pulls his other hand out from beneath him to push himself up. “Idiot,” he accuses with the best glare he can muster and then he dips down to take Makoto’s mouth again, though he can’t help the way his lips curve up when Makoto’s laugh drops softly onto his tongue.

His heart aches from it. He’s going to miss him _so_ much.

As if sensing his shift in mindset, Makoto’s changes. The smile against his mouth fades and Makoto parts his lips further, the teasing kiss shifting to something sensual and slow as Makoto’s arms come up and around him, but instead of pulling him down, Makoto rolls up and then gently lays Haruka onto his back. “I love you,” he murmurs when he finally parts from him, and then Makoto shifts downward, kissing his sternum and then over to where he can drag his tongue over the nipple he’d been toying with before.

“Makoto,” Haruka moans lowly, hips shifting as Makoto teases it again and then sucks at it. He feels the gentle tease of teeth to the hardened bud next, and he can’t stifle the sharper moan as the pleasure shoots through him. His fingers clench through Makoto’s hair as his other hand curls into the sheet beneath him.

“Haru,” Makoto groans with the tug, and he presses a kiss to his heart, then lays a line of them down his sternum and abdomen to his navel. Haruka’s not as sensitive there as he knows Makoto to be, but he can feel Makoto’s sounds of pleasure against his stomach. It does incredible things to his arousal, how easily Makoto is turned on simply by pleasuring him, because Makoto, kind and giving, sweet and _so_ sexy, could have anyone in the world, but he lives and breathes as if _Haruka’s_ the one who hung the moon, and Haruka doesn’t understand it.

He doesn’t understand it, but he’ll thank whatever powers that be for it every day because he happens to feel the same about Makoto.

“Haru,” he hears, and he straightens his head, looks down the length of his body, shivering slightly as another wave of arousal zings through him at the sight of how his chest and abdomen glisten from Makoto’s kisses and licks. Makoto’s looking up at him, blushed, lips swollen, eyes questioning; as they meet gazes, he gives Haruka’s waistband a tentative tug. Haruka licks his lips and nods, drops his head back down and lifts his hips, closes his eyes as Makoto tugs off his shorts and boxers to leave him completely naked. “Oh Haru,” Makoto breathes, just as he had the first time he’d seen him, and Haruka closes his eyes harder as he fights the natural instinct to try and hide himself, caught between embarrassment at Makoto’s reverent tone and pride that someone like Makoto finds him worthy of it.

Makoto dips his head, kisses his abdomen at his navel again as his fingers stroke along Haruka’s hiplines. Haruka’s stomach tightens in anticipation as they draw closer to his dick, but then Makoto pulls back completely and, curious, Haruka finally opens his eyes and tips his head up again. He can see Makoto’s erection, an eager push against his shorts, and he draws his lips in to moisten them—and then his heart beats a bit faster when Makoto’s hands drop to his own waistband. He glances up further and Makoto, redder than ever, briefly meets his eyes then looks away, but then looks back again, still shy, but obviously determined to push past it for _him,_ and _oh,_ how Haruka loves him for it.

Pushing himself up to sit, Haruka’s hands join Makoto’s, lightly resting over them, and he tips his head slightly to press a kiss to Makoto’s hip as they bare it. He lifts his head again so that they can pull his shorts and underwear out enough to not catch on his erection before sliding them down his thighs. Haruka can’t help but look. Makoto’s dick is _right there_ , completely exposed this time, and maybe it’s because he _is_ so close, but it seems larger than he’d thought it to be before. Without thinking, he brings a hand up to touch it, feels his own pulse with the sharp intake of breath Makoto gives and how it feels beneath his fingers, hot and smooth and hard.

Haruka glances up. Makoto’s eyes are screwed shut about as tightly as his were before, and a soft ache wends its way beneath his arousal. Again without thought, Haruka leans forward and presses his lips to the crown of Makoto’s dick. 

“Haru!” Makoto gasps and Haruka feels a fresh wetness beneath his lips, feels his own cock leak from the sensation of it. Lifting his head, he licks his lips; Makoto’s taste pulls a low, hungry sound from him before he can stop it, and he knows it has to be that it’s _Makoto_ because he’s certainly had better flavors on his tongue but, at the moment, he can’t recall one.

“Mine.”

“H-Haru.”

Haruka feels Makoto’s dick jerk in his light grasp. He brings his hand up the shaft in a light stroke and licks his lips again when he feels the pre-come that’s leaked. “All of Makoto is mine,” he says as he tips his head back. Makoto’s eyes are open now, and god, the look in them, adoration and pleasure and desire and surprise; it causes Haruka’s want and possessiveness to soar and sends that protectiveness he’s always felt for Makoto skyrocketing too. He knows it’s irrational, but, in that moment, he wishes he could get his hands on anyone who’s made his Makoto self-conscious as much as he wants them to stay the hell away from him. 

“Haru,” Makoto says again and then he grips Haruka’s arm, tugs him up, kisses him, a low, wanton sound slipping in with his tongue as he eases Haruka back down on the bed. “Now who’s being embarrassing?” he murmurs with a husky laugh when he pulls back, but then he turns his head to say against his ear, “All of me’s only ever been for you.”

“Makoto.” Haruka swallows as Makoto’s lips tease the sensitive divot at his throat. When Makoto lifts his head, he holds his gaze, and it’s not as hard to as it once had been when he’d try and verbalize something soft or intimate. “It’s the same for me.”

“I know.” Makoto pushes up to kiss him softly, then rests his forehead against Haruka’s as he slips his hand between them to find Haruka’s dick. Haruka’s breath catches, his eyes fluttering closed as that large hand wraps around him, Makoto’s thumb gently circling his tip, gliding through the wetness there. “What do you want, Haru-chan?”

Haruka’s lips part softly, but his mouth is dry and it’s so hard to think with Makoto so close and his fingers doing what they are. “Makoto,” he manages after licking his lips, and he tips his head just enough to brush a kiss over Makoto’s mouth. “Just Makoto.”

Makoto kisses him in turn, then pulls back; hand still fondling his cock, he moves downward. He kisses Haruka’s heart and then gently licks his nipple back into a peak as he thumbs over his tip again, and Haruka can’t stop the breathy sounds that escape him. Makoto’s stroking him now, motion smooth from Haruka’s pre-come, and he feels the build start through his stomach; Makoto leaves his chest to kiss his sternum, and Haruka tenses in anticipation for the tease to his other side, but it never comes. Makoto goes lower instead, and Haruka’s barely registered it from the kiss to his hipline before he’s gasping hard from the feel of Makoto’s lips gliding over and then around the head of his dick.

Panting harshly, eyes wide, he looks down the length of his body. Makoto looks up at him, partly shy, but mostly hungry, and Haruka groans and drops his head down again, because if he _keeps_ looking, he’s going to come. It’s filthy, but he can’t help but think of how _good_ Makoto had looked like that, those full lips surrounding his cock. And then Makoto’s lightly sucking at him and he stops thinking altogether.

He doesn’t take much past the head, but it doesn’t matter. Makoto’s hand is tight and warm as he strokes him, and god, the soft moans and whines Makoto makes beneath the wet sounds from his mouth make Haruka burn that much hotter for him, for his _lover,_ for release.

The wet heat leaves his tip for a few moments as Makoto’s hand slips to his base while he licks at Haruka’s shaft, and then Makoto’s stroking him again, firmer and faster as he slips his mouth back over Haruka’s head. This time, he rolls his tongue over the surface, and the press of it to his slit as he sucks pulls Haruka over the edge, hard. He hears himself call for Makoto, he _thinks_ , as the force of his orgasm snaps his hips up, and he feels like he can’t breathe—and then he can, and everything becomes a static buzz.

Haruka doesn’t know how long it takes for him to catch his breath and bring the world back into focus again. It feels like forever and he kind of wants to bask in that place; he’s never come that hard. But Makoto’s not there with him, so it isn’t worth staying, and he opens his eyes and lifts his head. He realizes instantly that it’s only been a few seconds, because there’s still come on Makoto’s lips and he’s wiping a bit of it from his cheek. Part of him kind of wants to die from it, but most of him thinks it’s hot—enough of him to where he can’t be embarrassed by the realization that, apparently, sex with Makoto brings out a rather dirty mind from him.

“Makoto.” Haruka pushes himself up, takes Makoto’s hand from his face, lightly runs a finger beneath his lower lip to swipe at the come that’s there. Before Makoto can say anything, Haruka kisses him, and while tasting himself on Makoto’s lips sends a tug through him, sated as he is, Haruka decides he likes the taste he’d gotten of Makoto better.

As he sucks at Makoto’s tongue, he tugs Makoto down to lay beside him and then shifts that hand to find Makoto’s dick. He’s so _wet,_ and he’s even harder than before, and before Haruka half-realizes, he’s put Makoto onto his back and is breaking from his mouth to kiss his chin, then his pulse point, then his clavicle. Makoto’s panting already, broad chest heaving beneath Haruka’s cheek, and then his lips as he kisses his way down; remembering how he’d reacted to Makoto’s teeth, he lightly scrapes at Makoto’s navel with them as he rolls the palm of his hand over Makoto’s leaking tip.

“Haruka!” Makoto’s body arches with his cry, his hand flying to Haruka’s hair, but it’s the call of his name that burns through him the hottest. _Haru-chan_ falls from Makoto’s lips so readily, despite Haruka’s admonitions, that it’s a bother to try to correct it anymore, but he can’t even _think_ of the last time Makoto’s used his full name. It tells how gone he is, because of Haruka, and for a flash of a second, Haruka really resents swimming and how drained he’d been from the day before his first orgasm, because it’s hot and makes him want to go again.

“Haru, please,” he hears from above him, soft, strained, a near whine; that tugs at him a different way, because he doesn’t want Makoto to _hurt_.

“Hush,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you,” and he kisses Makoto’s stomach and lifts his head. Makoto’s is lolled to the side, his eyes barely open. His face and neck are flushed, almost down to his chest, but it’s all arousal and need, no discomfort, despite Haruka’s focus being solely on him. He’s incredible, _beautiful,_ and Haruka licks his lips, looks him over from head to toe as he strokes him, burning the sight of him into his memory for the near-month that he’ll be gone; tanned, smooth skin over firm muscle, the way his broad shoulders taper to his narrow hips, the cut of those hips toward his apex, his cock, flushed and wet and hard, the sound his hand makes moving over it. He studies it as he strokes it, shifts his hand so that the tips of his fingers run along the vein he can feel beneath the surface and then he lets that hand drift lower to stroke over Makoto’s balls as he brings his other up to wrap around his dick.

“Mm, Haru,” Makoto breathes, head rolling in the opposite direction as his legs part with the extra stimulus, and he’s dazed again by how easily, eagerly Makoto’s responding to him in this state. It’s—

“Hot,” he murmurs aloud, not really even aware that he had until he feels Makoto’s sac tighten against his palm, hears his soft keen. His eyes slightly wide, he glances up again, sees Makoto’s hands tight in the sheets, sees the tremble through his body, the pleasure in his parted lips. Eyes never leaving Makoto’s face, Haruka tips his head. “Makoto is hot,” he repeats, too captivated by Makoto’s reaction to it to feel even a hint of discomfort, and then he presses a kiss to Makoto’s crown like he had earlier. “Makoto is gorgeous.”

Makoto cries out as Haruka’s tongue slides out over his leaking tip, his body arcing before Haruka can get the rest of his mouth around him. The first pulse of Makoto’s orgasm catches Haruka against his upper lip and ends up part on his tongue and part on his face. He jerks back in reflex, completely unprepared, and the rest rolls down his hand as he tightens it for Makoto to jerk into as he rides out the last of it. He holds him until Makoto stills and goes slightly soft in his hand, then he carefully lets him go; wiping the come from his face, Haruka shifts up to lay beside him, head on Makoto’s shoulder and eyes falling closed as he absently strokes down his softly heaving chest.

They lay there for Haruka doesn’t know _how_ long. He doesn’t care, really, and he probably should. They’re both a mess, the bedding is a mess, but he’s perfectly comfortable, too; content to drift off just like this, with Makoto warm against him, the scent of _them_ lingering in the air. It’s so intimate, something that belongs just _to_ them, this moment, and he doesn’t want to let go of it. He wants to hold it, to carry it with him to Chiba with the visions he’s burned into his memory, so when Makoto shifts, he doesn’t. He just lays there as if he’s drifted off to sleep, because he knows that the _every day_ Makoto, which he loves and needs and wants and will miss just as much as the completely unabandoned side of him, will be more concerned about letting him rest right now than what, really, should be done. And he’s right. When he doesn’t react to the soft call of his name or gentle touch to his cheek, Makoto leaves it, sighs softly and lays back down.

Haruka smiles a bit to himself and nestles closer as Makoto rolls onto his side and draws him into his embrace. But then, “I’ll miss Haru, too,” Haruka hears against his ear before he feels a light kiss to his hair. His fingers curl softly against Makoto’s chest. He’s not surprised that he didn’t fool him after all—or that Makoto lets him have his way anyway. Because Haruka has to leave, but Makoto has to stay behind. They’ll do what they need, and do it well, and get through it because that’s part of what growing up means. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy for either of them.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camp begins, new acquaintances are made, and Haruka experiences his second greatest fear

The International Swimming Center in Chiba isn’t nearly as large as the Aquatic Centre in Sydney but, as Haruka stands by the sculpture and gazes up the steps, so many that he can’t count, it definitely seems more intimidating. He doesn’t know if it’s because Rin had been dragging him along and hadn’t allowed him time to look, or if it’s because of what being in Chiba at this point in his life represents, but either way, anxiety flutters through Haruka’s gut.

“It’s actually happening.”

Haruka glances over to his left and Kiryuu colors slightly; Haruka can tell that he hadn’t been meant to hear, but he had, and Kiryuu knows, and he would just feel weird pretending otherwise. So, since he does like Kiryuu, and—even more—since he’s going to be sharing quarters with him for the next month and doesn’t want the awkwardness, Haruka nods and gives a quiet, “Ah.” Kiryuu smiles slightly and he returns it with a similar gesture, and they head toward those intimidating stairs together.

Haruka’s actually relieved to have Kiryuu as a roommate. He’s quiet and soft-spoken, polite. He’s fond of Mikoshiba, but he knows he would never have survived four weeks of that energy both in _and_ out of the pool.

As soon as he and Kiryuu check in and get their packets, they head to a large conference room and join the other first-time athletes. Once they’re seated, Haruka scans the packet and then pulls out his schedule; as discreetly as possible, he snaps a picture and texts it to Makoto before turning his phone on mute and putting it away. He actually _looks_ at the schedule, then, and he smiles a bit. There are two open races, and the first is just in five days; it seems really soon, he thinks, but he’s glad, too—even after he reads the notation that there will be no interaction between athletes and guests after the swim due to the closed practice immediately after. It makes him wonder even more why they’d scheduled the first that soon, but he can’t be too put out about it. Makoto will have to come directly from work, so they won’t get to interact at all, but he’ll see him, at least, see that smile, feel his energy, and that’s never a bad thing.

The trainer leading the camp approaches the lectern, so Haruka does his best to put thoughts of Makoto away until his day is done and he actually has something to _tell_ him. It’s hard. Lectures are boring, no matter what the subject or who’s giving it, and Makoto is anything but, especially when he looked so cute all rumpled and sleepy, still naked and smelling of _them_ when they’d kissed goodbye that morning. Haruka’s face warms and he _resolutely_ turns his focus to the trainer because, well. That’s just too dangerous of water to be swimming around in. 

Fortunately, the lecture doesn’t last all that long; just enough to review the schedule, the rules and the code of conduct, and to remind them that, while not all of them are part of Team Japan and that there are no guarantees that they will be, they will all be held to their standards. They’re given a tour of the facility next, and then it’s lunch time, and then, _finally_ , the pool, where—as usual—Haruka loses track of everything until they’re ordered out for the evening.

By then, he’s good and exhausted—Haruka’s never slept as readily on public transport as Makoto—and, after grabbing something quick to eat, he heads back to his room. Kiryuu isn’t back yet, which is just fine with Haruka; all he wants is to shower and then text Makoto about _everything._ That’s his plan, anyway, but he ends up falling asleep part through, and doesn’t realize until he wakes up the next morning still holding his phone. His heart aches softly when he sees Makoto’s _sleep well, Haru-chan_ and heart after he’d eaten about forty-five minutes of silence. Makoto won’t be up yet, but he texts a _sorry_ anyway and then tosses his phone into his bag as he slides out of bed to get ready for the day.

Sunday is split between the pool and the conference room that’s been set aside as a study hall and computer lab for the athletes still in university. There’s a fair number of them, but they’re quiet, and it’s productive; before Haruka leaves, he books one of the computers for eleven the next day to attend his first virtual lecture, and then he heads into another meeting, as _all_ of the competitors are there. There’s dinner afterward, set up in such a way that they can _mingle and meet_ ; Haruka does the best he can through it because it’s expected and important in its own way, but he leaves as soon as it’s appropriate, nearly as exhausted just from that as he’d been from the entire day before. Kiryuu had been socializing with the three swimmers from Denki U, so Haruka again has the room to himself; he calls Makoto that night instead of texts, just so that he can hear him when he tells him that he’s glad the stupid mingling is over and that he can just focus on swimming. He’s still warm from the sound of Makoto’s laugh and voice when he falls asleep later.

Monday’s first stop is the cafeteria, and Haruka gives the food a slightly cranky pout. It’s day three and, so far, no mackerel. The time in the pool after flies by until he’s having to rush to claim his computer. He makes it just in time and, with a sigh, he opens his bag to takes out his books; his brow furrows slightly when he sees the voicemail light blinking on his phone. His stomach flips slightly and he pulls it out to see if it’s Makoto—because who else would be _calling_ him—but it’s not. It’s from his mother, and that makes his stomach flip harder. He takes a quick glance at the clock and decides to chance it, and is glad he did. She and his father have decided to go ahead with bringing on a private coach, she says, and Azuma has said yes. He jots down what time Azuma will be in to meet him and then slips his phone back into his bag, pretending to not see the warning look from the room monitor.

Azuma arrives on time, in the middle of the afternoon session. Haruka gets out of the pool and goes to him, gives him a proper bow and thanks him for taking him on. Azuma looks at him like he’s grown an extra head and then tells him to get on the block so that he can check his form. It seems like being _paid_ to help him versus doing so on a whim isn’t going to change Azuma’s approach to him, and Haruka’s glad for that.

By the time Haruka gets into bed that night, he’s completely drained. He’d been in the pool until Azuma and he had risked missing dinner altogether, and then had had a good hour of studying to put in after that. It isn’t until he’s about dozing off that he remembers his phone in the bottom of his bag; that he hasn’t even told Makoto about Azuma yet, never mind about his day. But he’s _so_ tired, and he knows Makoto will understand. He always has before, and he drifts off with a slight smile on his lips because he can just hear the gentle assurance in his head: _you’re working so hard, Haru-chan. It’s fine. I figured you were needing your rest._

Tuesday is even more filled than Monday, thanks to the alterations Azuma has made to his schedule, but things feel more normal despite it. Haruka is more used to his accommodations and is comfortable with the venue now, plus Azuma adds his own familiarity. They take lunch together like the other athletes with their own coaches, but Azuma tells Haruka that he’ll be on own for the evening meals because it’s important for him to have that team socialization, too.

Haruka can’t refute it, despite his introverted ways. He knows that the coaches and trainers aren’t _solely_ concerned with their performance in the water, so Tuesday night, he joins Kiryuu and the swimmers he’d been hanging out with at the meet and greet. They seem decent enough; friendly, but not raucous. Haruka doesn’t contribute a _lot_ to the conversation, but he does some, and he’s surprised to find it as late as it is when he excuses himself to study.

When he gets to his room, he takes out his phone to text Makoto about the meal, but it’s dead, so he plugs it in for later and then settles onto his bed with his books until Kiryuu comes in and his soft laugh startles him out of the light doze he’d fallen into. “I swear you’re more tired after talking with people than you ever are after the pool,” he teases, and Haruka is too sleepy to be embarrassed by it; he just gives him a tired, _Ah,_ nudges his books to the floor and rolls over to go back to sleep.

When Haruka wakes up on Wednesday, his first thought is that he’ll be seeing Makoto. He knows that it might just be a glimpse, and will definitely be from a distance, but it lightens his heart just the same. _I should text him_ , he thinks as he’s brushing his teeth. He could tell him where to sit so that Haruka would know where to look, plus, he still needs to tell him about Azuma. He glances at the clock as he comes out to dress and his lips lightly press. He doesn’t have the time. He has just enough to get over to the venue and meet Azuma for breakfast; they’re training before team training begins today because of the friendly race later. He vows to himself that he will during lunch and then grabs his phone and drops it into his study bag with the rest of the things from his desk.

Just before lunch, Haruka reaches the edge to pull himself from the water, Mikoshiba comes to a stop beside him, makes the observation that he’s back to focusing solely on his crawl. Haruka can’t help but smile a bit at the warm grin he’s given, and he finds himself sharing the revelation he’d had; that he prefers free over everything else as it makes him feel most connected to the water. Mikoshiba laughs, boisterously but affectionately, tells Haruka that it’s just like him, but it doesn’t embarrass him like it once would have. There are people outside of Makoto, outside of Rin and Nagisa and Rei, who know and who are coming to understand him now. And, with Mikoshiba, he’s okay with that.

Before their conversation can go any further, they’re called out of the pool to meet a group of swimmers from Hidaka’s affiliated high school. His eyes go wide when the captain introduces herself, but then he smiles a bit as Mikoshiba, quite proudly, shares that she’s his younger sister. He tries to imagine what it must be like having _three_ of them in the same place, but the girl pulls him from it when she addresses him and then goes off excitedly about his swimming and muscles before challenging him to a race. The last stuns him a bit and Kiryuu egging him on doesn’t help; _thankfully,_ Mikoshiba reins her in and drags her off, and Haruka breathes a discreet sigh of relief as they’re dismissed for lunch.

After a quick shower, Haruka makes his way to the cafeteria. His steps briefly slow when he sees someone examining the case that displays what’s on offer for the day. As he gets closer, he can tell that the guy’s a foreigner and somewhat confused, so he goes up to him and asks him what’s wrong.

“How do you buy this?” he asks; Haruka glances at what he’s pointing to, blinks, and then _smiles_. Mackerel. _Finally._ He helps the guy make his purchase, snags one for himself, then talks him through ordering once they’re inside the dining room. They don’t speak much while they wait as there’s a bit of a language barrier between them; the guy’s accent isn’t American, or English, and he can’t place where he’s from—or help but wonder what he’s doing there. He’s built like a swimmer, broad like Makoto and Sousuke, but he doesn’t remember seeing him before—yet something about him is familiar.

Their food comes and Haruka turns focus to that, uttering a quick, “let’s eat,” and then breaking off a piece of the filet. His eyes briefly close as he savors that first bite, and then he opens them to break of another, only to pause and then place his chopsticks on the rest when he sees the trouble the foreigner is having with them. “Wait just a second,” he says with a small smile and then he gets up to get some silverware for the guy. When he gets back to the table, he briefly stops in surprise when he sees the stranger using the chopsticks perfectly. He can’t help but wonder, as he sits again, if he’d been played a bit, but then the foreigner speaks positively about the mackerel, so Haruka gives him the benefit of the doubt and figures he just picks up things fairly quickly.

They finish at about the same time and end up leaving together. A second foreigner, a rather cross-looking one, accuses the first of taking off on him; Haruka smiles and nods when the guy he’d eaten with says he’ll see him later, and then he takes off for the computer lab. Albert, the angry looking guy had called the other, and Haruka’s brow furrows lightly as that hint of familiarity teases at him again.

As soon as Haruka is able, he goes back to the pool. It’s empty, and Haruka hurries to take advantage of the rare chance; he dives in, lets the familiarity and connection flow through him. He isn’t half through his length when the water shifts, not away from him, but expanding, welcoming the presence he feels approaching from his right like an old friend, but in a different way than Haruka has felt before. When he glances over with his next breath, the other swimmer has drawn even, and Haruka is fairly certain it’s the guy that he’d eaten lunch with. He’s curious enough that, when the guy stops at the end of the lap, he does too, and he’d been right. It is the same man, and he’s smiling, obviously happy.

“This is fun!” he declares, and his smile widens. “I can tell the water really likes you!”

It stuns Haruka into silence as he watches the other get out. He knows that he isn’t the only one out of his group of friends that learns things from the water, but the way this guy had spoken, it’s as if the water had shared a special confidence with him—as if he and the water are sentient friends, which is exactly how Haruka feels about it. And now, he’s even more curious about him.

It isn’t long at all before he finds out just who the man is: Albert Wahlander, the guy who holds the world records for the 100 meter and 200 meter free. Haruka’s two events.

Haruka’s mind buzzes with the knowledge. Not so much that he’d actually been in the water, swimming side by side, with him, although he’ll admit that that’s pretty amazing in its own right. No, it’s what Haruka had felt from the water about Wahlander, what Wahlander had said about the water and _him_ , that has Haruka feeling this odd mixture of excited and dazed. And it isn’t until Kiryuu nudges him as the group dissipates that he realizes the Hidaka coach is calling to him.

Pulling himself together, Haruka goes over to the man, glances at Azuma, who’s standing beside him, arms crossed, looking a bit displeased. “We’ll be ending the races with two heats of 100 meter tonight instead of just one,” the coach says, beaming widely. “Wahlander’s going to participate in the final, and you’ve been selected to swim with him. How about that, Nanase?”

Haruka’s lips part in his surprise and his mind blanks. Dazed, he turns his gaze to Azuma. “Choice is yours, kid,” he says, but his expression makes it clear what he feels Haruka’s response should be. Azuma doesn’t think he’s ready.

Haruka considers that. He truly does. But he thinks about the water earlier, too, how it had felt to be swimming with someone of like mind, of what Wahlander had shared with him. He thinks about Makoto in the audience, watching him take the race against the world champion, about how it will prove that the sacrifice is worth it, _that he can really do this,_ and he turns and bows to the team coach. “I’d be honored,” he says steadily as he straightens. Azuma lightly rolls his eyes and stalks away, which does make Haruka uneasy, but Azuma acts as he usually does when he puts him through his drills a half hour later, so he lets it go.

Eventually, spectators start trickling in and they’re called out of the pool for the event. Haruka isn’t too worried when he doesn’t see Makoto; he’s just now getting out of work and has to catch the train yet. The heats begin, time passes, and he _still_ doesn’t show, and Haruka’s lips lightly press. It figures that the trains would run slow tonight of all nights, and his stomach briefly bottoms in disappointment when, as their heat falls in line to swim next and he takes another look, he _still_ doesn’t see his best friend. And then they’re called to their blocks, and Haruka’s focus turns solely to the water and Wahlander, who’s directly to the right of him.

Haruka takes his stance when he’s called to, pushes off when the pistol sounds, just like he has countless times before. He feels the cold sluice of the water through and over him, extends his hand to welcome it; the water reaches back to make the connection… and then is violently jerked away from him. His rhythm falters, he corrects, reaches for it again, but this time it’s gone, completely out of his reach, and he’s pushing himself through a substance that’s both foreign and cold to him. He panics a bit. He’s never felt this. He and the water have fought before, and badly, but he’s never been completely robbed of it like this; doggedly, he makes himself push on and, somehow, he still ends up taking second, but it means nothing to him. His heart is pounding, he can barely breathe, and he recognizes it as fear; fear that there’s someone capable of stealing the water from him, which is more terrifying to Haruka than anything save for someone taking Makoto from him. 

“Nanase.” The snap of his name shocks Haruka back into the moment. He looks around, realizes that he’s the only one in the pool—that there isn’t even anyone left in the stands, and his heart sinks. He’d lost the chance to see Makoto, too. “Debrief,” Azuma says in a more normal tone and he tips his head toward the group.

Haruka nods, pulls himself out and goes over, stands stiffly when he’s congratulated for his time against the world champion. He can’t even fake a smile, because the win means nothing, and all he wants is to get back into the pool. He has to know if it had been Wahlander’s use of the water, or if the water had chosen Wahlander over him.

As soon as the group is released, Haruka beelines for the starting block, takes his stance, dives in. He reaches for the water, and relief floods through him when it reaches back and they connect as they always have. It _had_ been Wahlander then, and Haruka’s eyes narrow behind his goggles as he increases his speed, because this, this he can deal with. The water still accepts and welcomes him, so he’ll make himself get better and stronger and faster so that _nobody_ will be able to take it from him again.

Eventually, Haruka feels himself get tired to the point of sloppy and, this time, when he approaches the edge, he grasps it and comes to his feet. Panting softly between the exertion and exhaustion, he pulls himself onto the deck, and then stops when he sees Azuma a few feet in front of him. “I was just coming over to haul your ass out. You’re past curfew.” Haruka nods and then blinks and quickly reacts when a bottle of water and a protein bar are tossed at him. “ _And_ you missed dinner. Tch. Idiot. It’s like you’re _looking_ for demerits.”

Haruka quietly thanks him, then apologizes. “I lost track of time,” he says, which is obvious, but he doesn’t know what else _to_ say; wishing Azuma goodnight, he turns and heads toward the exit.

“Nanase.” Haruka’s lips press, but he pauses and turns to face Azuma again. “You can be better than Wahlander. You’ve got the potential and I can help you reach it. But you need to keep your head and be patient.”

That tension eases inside him some and Haruka’s exhaustion hits harder. He thanks Azuma again, with a bow this time, and then heads into the locker room, tosses his jacket on over his jammers, grabs his bag and crosses over the accommodations. Kiryuu’s already asleep when he lets himself into the room and Haruka’s glad as it gives him excuse to not shower. He just strips off, tugs on a clean pair of sweats and collapses onto the bed, near asleep before his head even hits the pillow. 


	36. Chapter 36

From that point on, everything becomes about the water. Haruka does his due diligence on studying and schoolwork because he knows that he can't let that slip, but he spends every bit of extra time he has in the pool, whether it’s with his team, or with Azuma, or on his own. 

Haruka realizes that he’s hyper-fixated on the loss, but he can’t help it. He’s never felt like that before, never wants to again. This is his precious dream, the dream he’s _already_ sacrificing so much for to pursue. The dream that had taken losing himself, nearly losing Makoto, to find. He absolutely _cannot_ let it all be for nothing. And it will _mean_ nothing if he loses his connection to the water, even if he _could_ reach the global stage without it. The water is what had drawn him to swim in the first place, long before Makoto had guilted him into joining the ISC. So.

The days all flow together. Up for breakfast and then training with Azuma before the scheduled training begins. Morning lectures on theory or nutrition or regimens, then back in the pool before lunch. Study blocks or computer labs smatter the afternoon, between which he’s always in the water, and then after dinner, he’s right back at it again, save for the times when Azuma _makes_ him get out and go to some stupid socializing event, usually under the ominous reminder that he’s being assessed as a whole and not just for his swimming— _which includes how you interact with peers and sponsors and superiors, so get your ass out and go!_

There are days when Haruka questions his initial excitement that Azuma had said yes.

Haruka doesn’t buck curfew again. Most days he’s simply too exhausted, and it’s all he can do to get back to his room, shower and study until he falls asleep. It’s hard, harder than he’d imagined it would be, but he tells himself he can do it. That it’s worth it. That, once he’s back home and can see Makoto, it’ll be better. That, once he’s done with university and doesn’t have classes to worry about, it’ll get easier. That it’ll be better once the competition season is over, that he just needs to make it to Obon, that Makoto’s rooting for him and is _so_ proud and is working hard on his own, too; anything he can think of to set as a goal to keep him going. It varies day by day, depending on how well he’s slept, his classes, how many times he and Azuma bump heads over anything from Haruka’s form to how long he spends in the water. But he’ll keep coming up with things to tell himself, because he knows that the training is working. His body is changing. He’s building more muscle than ever before. His strokes have smoothed out in places he hadn’t even realized had needed correcting. He’s getting faster.

That said, there are _still_ days when Haruka questions his initial excitement that Azuma had said yes.

Like now. Seriously. It’s all Haruka can do to _not_ roll his eyes when, before he’s even pulled himself out of the water, Azuma starts in on him for focusing on distance. “You need sprint practice, too,” he goes on as Haruka lifts his goggles. “You’re forgetting to keep a balance.”

“Fine,” Haruka says evenly, although he doesn’t see the point. He needs speed _and_ endurance to beat Wahlander—or whomever—and _he_ doesn’t feel he’s making as much progress in the latter as he is the former. But Azuma’s the supposed expert, so. “I’ll practice sprints next then, Coach.”

The next thing he knows, Azuma is _right_ in his face, angrier than Haruka can remember having seen him as he point blank tells him that he’s the one that had screwed up by saying yes to the demonstration race. Haruka knows but he can’t go back and change things, and, besides, Azuma’s accusation has nothing to do with _right now,_ so what’s the point of it? His irritation makes him stand firm, despite how _extremely_ uncomfortable he is with Azuma so close to him. _Especially_ when Azuma actually prods him in the chest as he tells him not to get pissy with him.

It just makes him pissier. Nobody’s ever talked to him or treated him like this, not even his parents. Nobody’s forced their authority over him like this before, telling him when he can do what, what’s good for him and what isn’t, pointing out faults and flaws that he knows are true but doesn’t want to hear about anyway. But he will _not_ give Azuma the satisfaction of showing that he’s gotten to him _at all_ , so he stands straight and stony-faced, lets Azuma prattle and poke until he tells him, again, that he’d lost because he’d been too eager and hadn’t been physically ready.

This time when the remorse and self-doubt over his decision twist at his gut, Haruka looks away before he catches himself—and then he mentally curses because he totally _did_ just give Azuma a reaction. “I won’t lose next time,” he says stiffly, and Azuma softly snorts.

“Were you always this competitive?”

The question makes Haruka even more uncomfortable, because that’s never what swimming has been about. Not for him. But now, all of a sudden, it is, and he _still_ doesn’t like that it’s come to that. “If you have something to teach me, do it now,” he says, eyes narrowing in a sidelong look to the man. “Otherwise, I’m getting back in the water.” And he won’t lie. He is spitefully pleased when, after a second of silence, Azuma gives an incredibly frustrated sound. But then:

“Do you know the term _shuhari?_ ”

The question is spoken calmly and is out of the blue enough that it draws Haruka’s attention before he’s really even aware of it. “ _Shuhari?_ ” he repeats curiously as he turns to properly face his coach, and Azuma nods, proceeds to tell him about it. It’s interesting, Haruka thinks, but then Azuma abruptly points at him, finger just centimeters short of his face. _Again._

“Your crawl is going in the reverse order,” he says evenly. “You broke tradition first, so now you need to go back; start with the basics.”

Haruka blinks at him incredulously. It makes _absolutely no sense_ why he should have to if he’s already obtained the end goal, but Azuma doesn’t offer any thing further, just stands there staring at him with that irritating, irritated look on his face, and Haruka’s just done. “This is stupid,” he mutters, and he turns away sharply, pulls his goggles back down and dives in, completely ignoring whatever it is Azuma’s shouting at him from behind him.

Four or five laps later, he hears Azuma call him back out of the water as he goes into another turn. Part of him is tempted to swim another lap despite it, but he knows that he’s pushed the disrespectfulness a _lot_ today, so he finishes the one he’s on and gets out.

“Shower and change then meet me in the hall,” Azuma says curtly as he tosses a towel in his direction; Haruka’s brow furrows slightly, but again, that’s all he gets and, with a huff, he snags the towel and stalks toward the lockers. Azuma’s making no sense whatsoever today, he thinks crossly to himself. He could have had another forty-five minutes before he’d _had_ to get out to meet with the group before the open races.

The open races.

Haruka’s heart aches hard and sudden with the thought and he feels himself pale; his jaw tenses tightly and his eyes fall shut. Makoto will be there, and he should be wild with joy, but all he feels is a burning shame because he suddenly realizes that he can’t even say what the date is, never mind how many days have passed since he’d reached out to him—or where his damned phone even _is_. He doesn’t know if Makoto is coming before, or coming straight from work; hell, Haruka doesn’t even know if he’s coming _at all,_ because Haruka has absolutely _no_ doubt that Makoto’s reached out to _him,_ and why would he when he's been ignored for so long?

As soon as the thought comes and goes, Haruka feels even shittier. He knows Makoto better than that; knows that Makoto will play it off that it’s _just Haru-chan_ as he has in the past, despite how things have changed between them. Haruka’s breath catches hard as he stands under the water and he brings a hand up to grasp at his heart. All he can think of now is Makoto and how he’s pushed himself to be better about his insecurities, about how far Makoto has come because he loves Haruka and _wants_ to be better for him. And Haruka _can’t even keep track of his fucking phone_ to stay in contact, to remind him that Haruka loves him back, wants to be better for him, too? 

All Haruka wants to do now is go back to his room, tear his half of it apart until he finds his phone so he can call Makoto, and… what? His jaw tenses, because he doesn’t know what he would even say, and maybe it’s not so bad that he has to see Azuma first, after all, because he can try and think of _something._

Dully, Haruka finishes his shower, towels off and dresses. Azuma is waiting for him in the hall, promptly digs at him again about starting over.

“What good would it do me to go backward now?” Haruka demands impatiently, and if Azuma doesn’t give him an answer this time, he’s going to walk He has more important things to do than listen to a bunch of nonsense.

“I’m trying to tell you!” Azuma gives back with similar curtness, and Haruka’s fingers curve into his palms. This is just so—

“Haru!”

Haruka’s jaw drops and he quickly turns. “Makoto!” he breathes, drinking in that warm smile, the love he still sees in those eyes. His stomach about bottoms out, he's that glad for it, even though he doesn’t feel he deserves it. “Makoto, what are you doing here?” Because it’s far too early for them to be letting spectators in for the open races. He’s fairly certain, anyway. Unless something had changed. Which is entirely possible, given how focused he’s been on the water and little else.

Makoto’s smile wavers uncertainly; his gaze flickers away, then returns. “I was worried,” he admits quietly, and Haruka’s gut clenches with the guilt in Makoto’s voice and expression. “I haven’t been able to contact you and I thought something might have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” he says promptly, despite how awkward he feels with Azuma standing _right there_ , because Makoto deserves to hear it. He deserves more than that, honestly, but he can’t; they’re just too public. “I can’t even think when I looked at my phone last.”

“I see.” Makoto’s tone is light, but his eyes are anything but; Haruka can’t look at him anymore and he turns his head away. “I was worried,” he says again, even more apologetically this time, and Haruka doesn’t know that he’s ever hated himself more. Makoto has _nothing_ to be sorry about. This is all on him.

“Ne, Haru,” Makoto continues, and Haruka makes himself look up; Makoto’s smiling warmly at him now, but it doesn’t make him feel better. He doesn’t want Makoto to feel badly _at all_ , but Haruka doesn’t deserve his kindness, either. “About what Azuma-san was saying?” Haruka blinks in surprise—he’d not been expecting _that—_ and Makoto’s smile widens slightly. “Remember how you taught me that I should always sharpen the knife before I try to fillet a mackerel?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, curiously, ignoring Azuma’s incredulous blurt from behind him. “You won’t get a clean cut if you don’t.”

Makoto nods. “Right. So, if I want to make the best mackerel dish I can, I have to sharpen myself, first.”

Haruka’s brow furrows slightly and then his eyes briefly widen. Makoto is right. You have to train yourself into remembering to sharpen the knife first, or making the best dish is no guarantee.

“I think that’s what Azuma-san meant,” Makoto finishes simply and, after a second, Haruka nods and turns back to Azuma.

“Can you explain from the beginning again, please?”

Azuma gives him a disbelieving look, then shakes his head, clears his throat and starts again, eventually nodding Haruka toward a bank of chairs as he continues to explain what he’d meant and the importance of it. “That’s the idea,” he says when he’s done, and he arches a brow. “Do you understand now?”

Haruka nods, then thanks him. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he says sincerely, and Azuma softly snorts.

“All that time I spent…” he trails off and shakes his head bemusedly.

“You done, Haru?”

Haruka’s head turns sharply, his jaw dropping _again_ when _Rin_ , of all people, calls out to him. He glances at Azuma, who looks smug enough that Haruka knows he’d known that both Makoto and Rin were there and had pulled him from the water early because of it. He feels a bit bad, then, for his earlier thoughts about his coach, and he quietly thanks him again as he stands to head outside with Rin. “Where’s Makoto?” he asks as Rin pushes open the door, and Rin shrugs.

“Said something about finding a drink and that he’d be back,” he says, then he grins at Haru. “Been a while, huh?”

“Ah,” he gives Rin a smile, puts his focus on him, or tries to, because it _has_ been a while, and it _is_ good to see him. He suddenly feels a bit excited, even, for the All-Japan competition, to be in the water with Rin again, to swim against him. But then, Rin’s always pulled that energy from him.

“You were pretty heated up back there with your coach,” Rin says with a smirk; Haruka looks away with a nod, and Rin laughs.

“What?” he demands as he looks back to him, and Rin flashes another grin.

“Just been a while since I saw you like that is all.”

Haruka nods, looks away again, then presses his lips, releases a breath. “I swam with Wahlander,” he shares. “He was here for a friendly challenge the first week of camp. It was something I’d never experienced before, Rin. I couldn’t feel the water. It was like… like he’d taken it from me, and I could tell I was swimming, but Rin, I couldn’t _feel_ it.”

“He must have been incredible if he could make _you_ feel like that,” Rin says quietly, thoughtfully, but then the grin returns to his voice. “I’m excited now!”

Haruka can’t help but smile again. “I swear, you never change.”

Rin laughs a bit. “Ahh, that’s not true! I change every day, Haru. My times do, too. One thing hasn’t, though.” He grins at Haru warmly. “I still want to swim with you.”

The words both warm him and make his heart ache. They’ve always meant more than what they seem on the surface, between Haruka and Makoto and Rin. They speak of the bond they forged through the water, the one that ties their hearts together even now. But, with Makoto, it’s become so much more than even that. _It’s meaningless without you,_ echoes through his head, and _I love swimming **and** Haru-chan, _and Haruka feels bad because he’s only half-listening to Rin, who he’s not seen in an age, but he just _can’t._

“We should go find Makoto.” Rin catches him off guard again, pulls him from his thoughts, and the redhead shrugs a bit when Haruka blinks in surprise. “I’m sure we can’t keep you right up to the race, and it wouldn’t be fair to hog you, even though he sees you a hella lot more than I do. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was freaked that he hasn’t been able to get in touch with you, even though we all know you’re shite with your phone. He’s such a mother hen,” Rin says with a laugh, but it’s affectionate, so Haruka lets it pass, just nods and follows Rin back inside.

They find Makoto at a bank of vending machines near the cafeteria, just kind of standing there. “Makoto?” he calls; Makoto turns in surprise, and it’s then that Haruka sees Azuma toward the far end of the hall.

“I think you’ve got a really good coach, Haru,” Makoto says after greeting the two of them.

Haruka gives him a puzzled look and then he frowns. “I suppose.” His fingers curl in slightly. He _hates_ that Makoto had found out as he had that Azuma is officially coaching him instead of hearing it from him, but it is what it is, and neither Makoto nor Azuma are to blame for it.

“But?” That comes from Rin, and Haruka looks at him then huffs.

“He’s bossy. About everything. Eating and sleeping, and what I do with my free time. What?” he demands when Rin laughs and Makoto stifles a smile with his hand.

“He’s _supposed_ to be bossy about those things, Haru-chan,” Makoto says in amusement. “He’s _your coach._ At this level, that means a bit more than giving you direction when you’re in the water.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Rin declares with a handwave, and then he flashes an all-too-familiar grin. “Might take _you_ longer than most, though. I mean, you’ve pretty much done what you wanted when and how for years now.”

“Ahh, that’s true!” Makoto agrees, “With Auntie and Uncle being away more often than not!”

Haruka rolls his eyes at the teasing. “Be quiet,” he mutters to them both, but he can’t deny that there’s some truth in it. He _hasn’t_ had the type of guidance and authority that Azuma’s brought into his life, and he begrudgingly decides to try and give Azuma a fairer chance going forward.

Makoto’s watch beeps for 6:00 then and the three of them sigh as one, Makoto and Rin both laugh, and Haruka smiles a bit. He does cherish how close the three of them still are after all this time. After all that’s happened. “I’m going to go grab us some seats,” Rin says, and Haruka looks at him in surprise again, but then recalls what Rin had said about Makoto and his expression softens. Rin’s a hothead and can be oblivious and insensitive sometimes, but he has a good heart; is a good friend.

“Rin…” Makoto murmurs in curiosity as Rin waves and heads off; Haruka draws a quiet breath, moistens his lips.

“Makoto. I am _so_ sorry,” he says when Makoto turns with the call of his name.

“Haru, you don’t—”

“I do,” Haruka interrupts, and then he has to look away for how soft of a look Makoto gives him. “I know I hurt you, Makoto,” he says quietly, jaw tensing again. “I don’t know _why_ it’s so hard for me. It’s so _stupid_! And it was bad enough when we were just best friends, but now?” He presses his lips together, shakes his head. “I just… I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, Haru-chan.” And the softly spoken words just make Haruka ache more, because Makoto doesn’t deny that he’d been hurt, never mind that Haruka doesn’t deserve them. “But I know it wasn’t on purpose. You’re working so hard between training with Azuma-san and the team, and trying to keep up with your classes remotely, and I know my Haru-chan,” he says so tenderly that Haruka _has_ to look at him again. “I know you’ve been pushing yourself doubly hard since you came in second to Albert-san, which is why I worried. You push yourself _too_ hard sometimes. I was lonely,” he admits, gaze briefly dropping, but then he lifts it again to steadily hold Haruka’s eyes. “But I was never angry with you, Haru. So don’t be angry with yourself. We’ve never _had_ to rely on phones, you and me. And it’s one more new thing you’re having to learn, on top of how many others? I know it’ll come.”

“Makoto.” Haruka takes a step toward him without thinking; Makoto pinks slightly, but discreetly reaches for his hand.

_Spectators, please make your way to the natatorium. The open races will begin in twenty minutes._

Which means that Haruka has just five before he has to be with the other athletes.

He takes Makoto’s hand anyway, squeezes his fingers. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I love you. So much.”

Makoto gently squeezes back, gives that sweet smile that’s just for him. “I love you, too, Haru-chan. Just two more weeks ‘til you come back home and win at the All-Japan. And then _home_ home, for Obon, after that!”

And Haruka knows it’s just fourteen days, just half of what it had been the last time they’d said goodbye, but for as badly as he wants to be in Makoto’s arms, to taste his lips, it still seems like forever.


	37. Chapter 37

There are no special guests for the open races this time. It truly is just a demonstration, a trial of sorts to see how far the athletes have come between the first and this. And there won’t be another open race after; tomorrow they’ll be moving to the high-altitude complex where they’ll be completely sequestered until their return to Tokyo and put through a bit of a different regime until it’s time to start taper.

Haruka swims in the same order he had in the first open race; two-hundred-meter followed by the one-hundred. He wins both of his sets, the one-hundred by several tenths of a second. When he pulls himself out of the water, he finds himself wishing that Wahlander had been there so that he could have truly challenged himself, but the moment’s short-lived. All it takes is meeting Makoto’s eyes as he turns to remind him of what his obsession had cost him.

_I was lonely._

And Haruka knows that Makoto has forgiven him, that he will somehow find a way to forgive himself because Makoto has asked it of him. But he also knows with absolute certainty that he will find _some way_ to make sure that he doesn’t lose himself to that drive again.

The spectators are asked to leave for closed practices, and _oh_ , how Haruka wished he could have had more time. Makoto and Rin stand and they both wave at him. As Rin turns, Makoto gives Haruka _his_ smile and then turns to join Rin in the queue; like that, they’re gone and Haruka’s hands lightly curl before he releases them with a silent sigh.

“You’re closer, Nanase.” Haruka turns, brow furrowing slightly, when Azuma addresses him from behind. “You still would have lost, but only at half what you did the other night. Call it a night tonight, get yourself packed, and get some sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow morning once you’ve been oriented in Tomi City; then we’ll see about getting you back to the basics and getting you even closer.”

Haruka doesn’t miss the barb in Azuma’s point, but he doesn’t rise to it. He understands now what Azuma had meant, but beyond that, Makoto had been right. He’s on a whole different level now than when they’d trained under Sasabe and Kou. Azuma’s not just training him to be a better swimmer, he’s guiding him toward becoming a medaling athlete, and he probably _has_ had to be more authoritative with him since he’s not accustomed to having someone in that role.

That said, he still has to resist a smirk when Azuma looks surprised as he responds with a simple, “Ah,” and a bow. But only because he’d caught him off-guard. There isn’t any spite behind it like there’d been before, and the urge passes as quickly as it had risen. He does feel badly for how poorly he’s behaved all around, and he’s suddenly glad that they’re packing up and moving on, as it’ll truly mark a fresh start.

The first thing Haruka does when he gets back to his room is search for his phone. He finds it rather quickly, buried under the notebooks and learning materials in his study bag, though he can’t recall when he’d tossed it in there. It’s completely dead, and he’s kind of glad for it; he knows that he’s going to have to face the multiple texts and voicemails from Makoto in relatively short order, but he’s not quite ready for it, yet.

Kiryuu comes in and they talk a little bit as they pack up everything save what they’ll need in the morning. He’d done well, too, him and Mikoshiba both, and they wonder together what the high-altitude training will be like as neither of them have ever been through it. They’re near done with their packing when Kiryuu pauses and gives him a soft, but genuine, smile. “I’m glad your friend could come today, Nanase.”

Haruka’s hand falters for his bag.

“I think it’s the same guy I’ve seen waiting for you, anyway. Tall, well-built, brown hair?”

Haruka nods as he busies himself again with unzipping it. “Ah.”

“Thought so. I saw him up in the stands and figured. But I’m glad he was here. You seem better for it.” That draws Haruka’s gaze up and he gives Kiryuu a curious look. “You really shut yourself away after that race with Wahlander,” Kiryuu says quietly. He flashes another quick smile. “Not that you were Mr. Social to begin with, but you just weren’t the same, either. Seeing your friend seems to have perked you up a bit.”

“Makoto,” Haruka says after a slight hesitation, and he looks up when Kiryuu makes a questioning sound. “My friend. His name is Makoto.” And _friend_ seems so inadequate, but he just doesn’t know Kiryuu well enough to give more, at least not about the nature of their relationship. “We’ve known each other since before kindergarten; have swum together nearly that long.” He picks his bag up from the bed and puts it back on the floor to grab in the morning, then chances a slight smile to Kiryuu. “I was glad he came tonight, too.”

“Such a long time!” Kiryuu exclaims. “Does he still swim?”

“Ah. Casually though.” Haruka settles on the edge of his bed, lightly clasps his hands in his lap. “Backstroke. He was offered a couple of recommendations, too, but none for a university with a strong sports education program. He’s going to teach children how to swim.”

“You’re really proud of him, huh.”

Haruka’s cheeks warm, the words making him aware of the smile that had risen as he’d spoken about Makoto, and he looks away, but nods. “Ah. I am.”

“He looked pretty proud of you, too.”

Haruka feels his face warm further because he knows exactly what look Kiryuu had caught Makoto in and, tonight, it hurts as much as it makes him feel good, thinking about Makoto’s pride in him. Makoto always has been, for many things that Haruka doesn’t think warrants it, and he certainly doesn’t feel he deserves it right now, the way Makoto acts as if he’s hung the stars and moon sometimes. Not tonight. “He’s a good friend,” he says softly as he moves to the desk to take the myriad pens and other supplies out of the drawer to put into his study bag. His brow furrows slightly when, as he reaches in, his fingers nudge something toward the back of the drawer and, when he pulls it forward and into his line of vision, his breath lightly catches.

“Nanase?”

Haruka blinks, gives a shake of his head. “It’s nothing. Just tired,” he assures with a glance to Kiyruu, who nods.

“Same. I’ll hit the shower while you finish up then?”

“Ah.” He turns back to the drawer, grasps the old phone charm, slips it into his jacket pocket while he takes care of the other items, his mind going back to that afternoon in his loft what seems a lifetime ago when he’d found it after looking through Makoto’s box of memories. Too hungry and desperate for a shower after unpacking, he’d taken it downstairs and had tossed it on his desk and then had put it into his supply cube for safekeeping. He must have snagged it up when he’d grabbed that blind handful of pens and such while Makoto was in the shower his last night home, and when he finishes with the desk, he draws it out of his pocket and sits on his bed again.

_Makoto._

Drawing a quiet breath, eyes quickly shifting toward the closed bathroom door, Haruka grabs his phone and, after briefly shutting his eyes, he opens them again and accesses his messages. The eight voicemail notifications make him feel bad enough, but there are well over thirty texts over the… Haruka’s eyes fall shut again and his jaw tightens when he sees when his last contact with Makoto actually was. Twelve days. _Twelve days_ he’d let Makoto eat silence while he’d been obsessing over his loss. And it’s so stupid, because it isn’t as if he hadn’t thought about Makoto _every single day_ while he’d been pushing himself. Most of those days it was how he’d made it through, thinking about Makoto’s proud smile, or finally getting home to him, or how he was _not_ going to let the time without him be for nothing by losing again.

Haruka’s text tone goes off, startling him a bit. It’s Makoto, and Haruka nearly fumbles his phone in his hurriedness to open it. His heart clenches hard when he sees the, _I love you, Haru-chan, please be alright_ and the _I love you; I’ll see you tomorrow,_ messages seated right above Makoto’s new message, a simple, _I’m home <3._

_Can I call you?_ Haruka sends before half realizing it, and his phone rings before he fully does.

“Makoto.”

“Haru.” And his tone is so soft and gentle, loving, tinged with sadness, that Haruka’s heart breaks all over again. “Haru, _of course_ you can call me. You _never_ have to ask!”

Haruka can’t say anything. He just swallows and nods, which is dumb, because Makoto can’t see him, but it’s all that he can manage right now.

“Haru… Haru-chan, please tell me you’re not still beating yourself up for the—”

“Twelve days, Makoto,” he cuts in, voice tight, and his cheeks heat when he hears the slight waiver to it anyway. “I forgot for _twelve days_ while you texted and called and were left to worry. I—” He swallows, tightens his jaw. “You shouldn’t be so forgiving of me, Makoto.”

_You’re always meddling!_

Haruka’s jaw tightens further. “I didn’t mean that,” he stumbles out hurriedly. “Not how it sounded. Makoto is Makoto. I wouldn’t change who you are. I just…”

“Oh, Haru.” There’s silence for a moment, and then, “Do you want to know what I think, Haru-chan?” Haruka makes a soft sound to encourage Makoto, which is slightly better than his nod, he supposes. “I think you’re stressed and tired from working so hard, plus you’re away from your space and your routine, and together, that’s all got you all jumbled up inside. I won’t lie, Haru,” he continues even more gently after a moment’s pause. “I was worried, and sad. I was lonely for Haru, like I said. But also like I said, I was never, _ever_ mad at you, Haru. How could I be? Haru is Haru, after all!”

Haruka is glad that Makoto can be honest with him. It hurts to hear those admissions again, but he knows it would hurt worse if Makoto had repressed them, which is what he’d always done before. He’s grown, so much, Makoto, so why can’t he? Sure he’s gotten a little better about _some_ things, but this—

_Haru is Haru,_ he hears Makoto say, and that pulls him back from that spiral again. “What do you mean?”

Makoto laughs softly. “You’ve never liked your phone, Haru. You’ve _always_ forgotten it. And I’ve _never_ thought that it meant you hated me or didn’t want to talk to me! It’s just part of Haru! Just like me always sending a message to you anyway has always been part of me.”

“But things are different now. Makoto. You’re trying so hard to be better. I—I need to, too.” And Haruka can see what Makoto is getting at, knows that he’s being stubborn, _but he’d hurt Makoto_ , and he’d promised himself that he would _never_ do that again. It doesn’t matter to him that, this time, it hadn’t been done deliberately. 

“Oh, Haru… You are! You’ve grown so much since we’ve come to Tokyo.” There’s another one of those slight pauses where Haruka knows that Makoto is thinking, and then, in a voice that’s still warm, but also stern, “You have to quit comparing this to Obon, Haru-chan.”

Haruka’s breath catches softly.

“I knew, as soon as you said _Makoto is Makoto_ earlier, that’s where your mind was,” Makoto says to the unspoken question. He laughs softly then. “Did you really think the distance would make us unable to read each other, Haru-chan? But Haru,” he continues, sobering, “It’s apples to oranges, really. You were scared and hurt and angry on Obon. You lashed out to push me away because _I_ kept pushing. This, it’s not the same at all. Do I wish you could be a _little_ better about remembering your phone sometimes? Yeah, I do. But Haruka.”

Haruka’s cheeks warm slightly, hearing his given name in that stern, gentle tone. “Ah.”

“This wasn’t deliberate. _You need to let it go._ ”

_Don’t make **either** of us hurt over this anymore, please?_ Haruka hears it in the way Makoto speaks those last six words, in the poignant pause that follows, because Makoto’s right, the distance _can’t_ break their bond, and if—between this, and Obon, and every other time he’s hurt Makoto—he hasn’t yet, then maybe _he_ can’t, either. He takes a quiet breath, slowly exhales, feels that knot unravel some. “Ah.”

“Thank you, Haru-chan.” Makoto’s gratitude, his relief, thicken his voice, and Haruka’s eyes fall shut as that guilt tugs at him one more time before he shoves it back and locks it away with the other things he still feels shame over. It’s the closest he can come, but Makoto knows that, just as Haruka knows that Makoto has a similar place for his fears.

Makoto lightly clears his throat and then, with a laugh, tells Haru how Rin had fallen asleep on the train, how embarrassed he’d been when he’d woken up and had found the drool spot on his shirt. He tells him how he’d taken Rin to the aquarium earlier that day, that Rin had told him that Sousuke’s surgery had been a success, of the gatherings at _Marron_ and how Ikuya and Tono are coming when their schedules permit them, of the call he’d gotten from Nagisa and Rei; how they’re both going to Nationals. Haruka doesn’t say much, just curls onto his bed contentedly on his side and lets the warmth and familiarity of Makoto’s chatter wash over and through him, though the last bit of news tugs at his heart a bit. “I wish I could be there to cheer them on,” he says wistfully, doing his best to stifle a yawn that wants to tack itself on at the end, but Makoto still catches it.

“You need sleep, Haru-chan.”

“Ah.” There’s no point in denying it. He’s exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally, and he still has to shower; there won’t be time in the morning before breakfast and getting on the bus.

“Let me know when you get to Tomi City?”

“I will.” Haruka’s eyes narrow slightly in determination. He won’t forget. He doesn’t intend to again.

“Alright. Rest well, Haru-chan. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Makoto,” he says as he sits up; he disconnects the call, turns to put his phone back on the nightstand, and his eyes go wide when he finds himself looking into Kiryuu’s surprised ones. His face drains of color, he can feel it, but then it returns in a rush when, after just staring for a moment, Kiryuu’s expression shifts to something he can’t read before he turns away. Haruka doesn’t know what to make of that, but before he can really think on it, Kiryuu’s turned back toward him with his phone in his hand. 

“I, uh…” Kiryuu smiles a bit, awkwardly, color in his cheeks, looks away as he settles on the edge of his bed across from Haruka. “This is Sota,” he says, looking back at him again as he holds the phone out between them, and Haruka glances down, finds himself looking at a snapshot of a guy in glasses with brown hair a few shades lighter than Makoto. “He’s a year ahead of us. He’s going to school in Kyoto, for medicine. He’s going to be a pediatrician.” The soft pride in Kiryuu’s voice brings Haruka’s gaze up; Kiryuu gives him a kind smile, warmth lingering in his cheeks. “You don’t have to worry, Nanase. I get it.”

“Kiryuu.” His eyes briefly widen again as he remembers a conversation over a dinner that seems a lifetime ago. “Sota,” he murmurs, and then, “The group from Denki U.” His brow furrows. For the life of him, he can’t remember the guy’s name.

“Eguchi,” Kiryuu supplies. “Kei is Sota’s little brother. They moved to Sakurai, my hometown, between junior high and high school; Kei and I were freshman swimmers together. He’s how I met Sota.”

Haruka nods, just a little bit dazed. Asahi, Mikoshiba, now Kiryuu; it’s difficult to think about in some ways. But then, Iwatobi is so small, and Tokyo _so_ massive, never mind how Hidaka canvases athletes from all over Japan and beyond; maybe it isn’t such a coincidence after all.

“Anyway—” Haruka blinks, turns his attention back to Kiryuu. “—I just wanted you to know. I know how anxious it can make you feel when someone finds out, purposely or not. And I know how hard it is to be apart. It—” Kiryuu laughs a bit, pushes a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m saying this for how much it sucks being so far away, but it _does_ get easier. A little. You’ll come up with ways, little routines. And it makes you stronger as a couple; makes the time you _do_ have together even better.” Kiryuu’s eyes fade slightly as color creeps back into his face again; he blinks, then, and blushing profusely, quickly draws his phone back and stands.

“Kiryuu.” Haruka feels for him; he knows how it is to have certain memories creep forward unbidden, and at the _worst_ of times. He stands up while Kiryuu busies himself with a bag he’s already packed, thinking that he’ll shower and give Kiryuu time to reset. But first… Haruka opens his palm to look at the charm, then takes his phone up again to secure it on the device. He smiles a bit, softly, then places his phone directly onto his pillow, as far onto it as the charger will permit him to. He won’t take it with him anymore, not now that he knows the reality of his days. All that will do, no matter how good his intentions are, is let it sift to the bottom of his bag where he likely _will_ forget it again. If he keeps it there, on the bed, he’ll have to move it when he wants to study or sleep, he thinks, and the charm will remind him to not just brush or set it aside, but to check it first, to reach back out to Makoto.

Grabbing the clothes that he’d laid out earlier, Haruka heads toward the bathroom. “Kiryuu,” he pauses at the foot of the bed, and when Kiryuu looks at him, he smiles, a genuine one. “Thank you,” he says softly, and both their faces warm, compassion and understanding shared between them.

“Sure,” Kiryuu says as Haruka just as quickly turns away; Haruka hears him laugh, softly and slightly affectionately, behind him, and it doesn’t embarrass him quite as much as it would have not long ago. Makoto’s right, he realizes as he steps into the bathroom. He has grown. And maybe he _is_ being just a little too hard on himself.

_I was lonely._

Haruka’s eyes narrow softly as he undresses. _Maybe._ But that doesn’t make him any less determined to not let it happen again. Pain is part of growing, too, but only if you learn through it.


	38. Chapter 38

“Nanase! Cool down!”

Azuma’s sharp call cuts in through the rhythmic sound of Haruka’s minimalistic splashes. He completes the lap he’s on at his current pace but then slows after he pushes off, and he draws his mind back from things like breaths and phases of stroke and positioning. It takes a bit for that focus to fade until it’s just him and the water again, but he’s getting better at it.

A lot of things have gotten easier in the near week since they’d left Chiba.

Haruka knows that it’s just coincidence, that it has more to do with him getting his head right than the actual shift in location. It’s not necessarily that he’s realigned his priorities, per se. His drive is still there, and it’s stronger than ever, especially with the progress he’s making. But he’s not blinded by it, lost to it, like he had been. He’s found his balance is a better way to put it, he thinks.

He refuses to let the water be taken from him again, but he _absolutely_ refuses to hurt Makoto again in making sure that it isn’t.

Haruka’s determination serves as his fulcrum, but Azuma helps a lot, too. His coach still annoys him at times—and Haruka has no doubt that it’s reciprocated—but the truth beneath the teasing that Haruka had received from Makoto and Rin had stuck with him. It isn’t that Haruka had grown up with an absence of authority. His mom would come back to Iwatobi for holidays and his longer breaks from school and, in between, Makoto’s mom and dad had kept a close eye on him. But, for the most part, he _had_ been left to his own devices when it had come to things like sleep and diet and socializing, and how much time he spent in the pool. And he hasn’t had a constant _male_ authority figure in his life since latter elementary school. No wonder he’d acted like a brat, he thinks with a mental snort. But he understands now. Azuma truly is trying to help him become a better athlete all around. And he is grateful for that.

Haruka slows down again as he goes into his next lap, his final for the night. He thinks about his relationship with his coach, how—despite how strict Azuma is with him—things have relaxed between them, too. How he’s finding out a bit more about Azuma as a person. He recalls their conversation over lunch, how Azuma had smiled a bit as he’d spoken about the friend that had called and how they’d met; the thoughtful look that had risen in Azuma’s eyes when Azuma had commented on Iwatobi’s presence at this year’s nationals. It’s been preying on Haruka’s mind, missing Rei and Nagisa’s final competition and, after that conversation, he’d made up his mind that he was going to speak to Azuma after practice, to see if they could shift things around so that he can go see Rei and Nagisa swim. The worst Azuma can do is tell him no, and if he can’t, then so be it. But Nagisa and Rei are too important to him to not even try.

Finished with his lap, Haruka climbs out of the pool, puts a conscious effort into slowing his breaths the rest of the way. He catches the towel Azuma throws at him, nods when he’s told to call it a day after he completes the rest of his cooldown exercises. As Azuma turns to walk away, Haruka calls out to him; when Azuma stops, Haruka takes a couple of steps toward him and puts his question to him.

Azuma’s brows arch. “You do realize it’s going to cost you more than just the time in the pool, yes? After you add in the drive to and from, it’s going to cut into your sleep schedule, too, not to mention any study time you need. Plus, you start taper next week. Do you really feel you can afford a whole day out of the water at this point, Nanase?”

Haruka holds his gaze. “You would have told me _no_ straight off if I couldn’t,” he replies, and he doesn’t miss the very slight, very brief upward quirk of Azuma’s lips. “And I will make it up however you see fit between now and taper. I’ll do what you feel is best, but I would really like to go. Please. The two that are swimming, they’re important to me.”

Azuma stares at him hard for a moment, then gives a very put-upon sigh. “Fine. It’s a complete breach of training protocol, _especially_ before a tournament of this magnitude, but fine. I’ll tell your team coach and the camp liaison that I’ve excused you for the day. But no messing around, Nanase. You go, see what you need, and get back. No junk food, either; stick to what’s on plan. And _absolutely no_ bitching about the schedule I set once you’re back.” 

Haruka gives Azuma a proper bow. “Thank you, Coach. And I understand.” He turns away as Azuma does, and he can’t help but smile as excitement flutters through his stomach. It’s _still_ not set in stone that he’ll go. He has to arrange for transportation, and that could be tricky given that he’ll have to leave early tomorrow morning to make it on time. There’s the expense of it, too; he really has no idea how much it’ll cost to rent a car for twenty-four hours. But he hadn’t felt it worth checking into all of that until he had Azuma’s consent, even if he would have had time to earlier.

Haruka’s brow furrows slightly as he makes his way to the locker room. He doesn’t know if either Kisumi or Rin have rented a car before and they’re the only two of his friends that he knows for certain have their licenses. _Rin._ His eyes briefly go wide and then he hurries over to his locker, grabbing his phone as soon as he opens it. He’s been true to his plan; save for today, he’s left his phone on his bed where he can’t lose it or forget to check it at night. But he’d gone back to his room for it between lunch and his afternoon computer lab after he’d decided he was going to talk to Azuma. Now, however, he doesn’t think he’ll have to waste time working on a rental after all. Because he has no doubt that Rin’s felt as strongly as him about being at Nationals for his kouhai, and he knows that Rin’s at a high-altitude camp about an hour to the west of him. It’d be a bit out of Rin’s way, but—

Haruka’s phone rings and he casts it a cursory glance, then does a double take when he sees that it’s Rin. His stomach flutters again as he picks up the call because there’s _no way_ that this can be a coincidence. “Yo, Haru,” Rin greets, and then, before Haruka can return it, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Rin’s trying to play it cool, but Haruka can tell by his inflection and how he’d rushed to continue that he’s excited about whatever it is he’s called for, which convinces him even more that they’d had the same idea. “I was just thinking the same,” he says, and Rin laughs, which makes him smile again.

“Tokyo for high school nationals tomorrow?”

Haruka’s smile widens. “Ah. Azuma just said it was alright. You?”

“Ah! I talked to Mikhail about it at dinner and he told me I could go; helped me get a car around, even. Feel like hitching a ride?” 

“Sounds good.” Haruka doesn’t even bother to demure. Rin wouldn’t have called had he not been sure he wanted Haruka along with him. “I’m putting in for part of the car though,” he says firmly, and he won’t back down from that.

“Like hell. I was going that way anyway.”

“Rin, it’s an ho—”

“Gotta go, Haru.”

“Ri—”

“Be out front at six. I’ll see you then!”

“Rin!” Haruka rolls his eyes upward and shakes his head as he drops his phone back into the locker. He could tell from Rin’s tone that he hadn’t really had to go, he’d just made his stubborn mind up and that was that. Well, that’s fine. He’ll have the whole ride there and back again and he can be stubborn, too.

Now that it’s actually happening for _sure_ , Haruka lets himself think about the other piece of it all that he hadn’t dared to. Makoto. He’ll be seeing Makoto in just over twelve hours. And yes, it’ll be another very public place, and yes, he’ll have to share him with Nagisa and Rei and Rin, _but he’ll be seeing Makoto in just over twelve hours._

He allows himself a grin, and then a soft chuckle follows as he envisions Makoto’s expression when he sees him. He truly is going for Nagisa and Rei, but he’s looking forward to surprising his best friend just as much.

Haruka is just coming out from rinsing off when he hears Makoto’s text tone. Toweling off quickly, he snags his phone; brow furrowing slightly, he sends back a _rough day?_ to Makoto’s _I’m home._ Some might scoff, but there’s just something off in the two words and heart tonight. He can feel it.

_Just exams next week and all,_ Makoto sends back in the time it takes Haruka to grab his tee shirt and tug it over his head. _And anxious for Nagisa and Rei._ Haruka’s lips curve up softly as he reads that. Because of course Makoto would worry for their friends despite the stress that he’s carrying himself—a stress that Haruka knows all too well as he has his to sit for, too, albeit virtually. For a brief moment, he contemplates telling Makoto about tomorrow, but he decides against it just as quickly. It’d be one more thing to tease through Makoto’s mind when he goes to bed, good as it is, and there’s enough there already.

_Me too,_ he replies, knowing that Makoto will know the response is meant for all of it. He briefly draws his lips in, moistens them, then sends, _We’ll see each other in not too long though._ That earns him four lines of myriad hearts and smiley faces and he smiles himself again.

He and Makoto text until he’s ready to leave the complex; Makoto has work tonight yet, too, and has to leave about the same time. It’s good, Haruka thinks, because it takes that temptation to tell him off the table completely. After grabbing something to eat from the commissary, he heads up to his room. Kiryuu is there and invites him to hang out with the guys from Denki, and he considers it for a moment, then nods; he knows he needs his sleep, too, but he’s not tired enough yet to not lay there and think about tomorrow himself. Kiryuu’s smile makes him glad he did; it’s shy and sweet and reminds him of Ikuya’s a bit, and he finds himself saying, “I’m seeing Makoto tomorrow. Iwatobi has swimmers competing in Nationals. In Tokyo. My kouhai,” he explains, pushing through his awkwardness and the heat he feels in his face when Kiryuu looks at him in happy surprise. “They’re important to me. So I asked.”

Wistfulness briefly flickers through Kiryuu’s eyes, but his smile is still genuine. “That’s amazing, Nanase. Both that you get to go, and that Azuma thinks you’re in a position to where you _can._ Did you tell him?” he asks about Makoto, smile widening, and Haruka lets one of his own show as he shakes his head. “That should be fun.” Kiryuu’s eyes dance. “You’ll have to tell me how it goes.” Haruka pinks just a bit deeper and nods; Kiryuu’s expression softens and he pushes up from his bed, briefly claps Haruka’s shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Haruka ends up staying later than he’d anticipated, but the 5:15 alarm still feels like a sleep in compared to what he’s used to. He showers, gets breakfast, and then grabs a few snacks that they leave available for the athletes and tosses them into the small bag he’s packed with a pair of jammers (he’s vowed to never be caught without them again like he’d been in Australia!) and a few other essentials. The early morning is already warm, making him glad for the light tee shirt he’s wearing; blue, of course, but one in a shade that always makes Makoto’s gaze linger a little longer than it probably should. Haruka smiles as his stomach flutters again in anticipation.

By the time he steps through the gates, Rin is pulling up in a small grey car. They banter a bit as Haruka gets in and they take off, and when Rin makes some tongue-in-cheek comment about not blaming him if the day off throws him off, Haruka doesn’t even bother looking at him. “I’ll be fine. One day off isn’t going to damage me,” he says dryly.

“Oho! Confident, are we?”

“And you’re not?” Rin just laughs, which makes Haruka smile. Rin can get under his skin like nobody else, always has, but Haruka is _so_ glad that he came back to Japan, that they’ve made amends. He won’t say that they’re back to who and how they were before. That wouldn’t be possible. Too much has changed with each of them, with _them_. But they’re better, he thinks. Stronger, now that Rin’s moved beyond his obsession with him and Haruka’s let go of the hurt Rin had caused. Now that they’ve grown up and out of themselves a bit. Their relationship feels right to him now. Rin’s a part of him, they can push and support each other differently than anyone else, and he’d miss it even more this time if Rin were to remove himself from their lives as he had before. He doesn’t feel that’s a concern anymore, though. Because Rin’s found himself, too. 

The trip goes quickly for the most part. Rin isn’t a big morning person, and Haruka isn’t a talker, so it works out well all around. As they get to the outskirts of Tokyo, Rin perks up a bit, asks him if he’s told Nagisa or Rei that he’s coming. “I haven’t told Ai or the others, either,” Rin shares when Haruka tells him no. He grins. “It’ll be a good surprise, yeah?”

“Ah.” Haruka smiles a bit himself as he thinks about Makoto, too.

“Makoto?”

Haruka starts a bit at that and promptly feels stupid for it; is glad Rin’s focus is on the road. He hadn’t guessed where his mind was, it had just been a natural follow up. “No. It’ll be a surprise for him, too. Is Sousuke still in Tokyo? Makoto told me about his surgery,” he says when Rin gives him a surprised look from the corner of his eyes. “I’m glad it went well.” And he is. Their friendship is still tentative, forming, and he doesn’t think they’ll likely ever be _close._ But swimming is important to Sousuke and Haruka would never want that taken from anyone.

“He is, yeah. And me too.” Rin’s features soften in a way that’s different than Haruka’s seen before, but then their sharpness returns with his grin. “It’ll be a surprise for him, too.”

The further they get into the city proper, the thicker the traffic gets; they’re just about to the venue when it stops altogether. Rin loses patience quickly and Haruka can’t blame him—they’re late as it is—but it doesn’t do anything to help, especially when he starts _growling_. The small car starts to feel claustrophobic from his energy and Haruka glances longingly out the window, and then freezes for a second before nudging Rin and calling his name. “The carpark,” he says, pointing to his left.

“Haru, you want to—”

“It’ll be faster than this,” Haruka cuts off the incredulous blurt; besides, he doubts they’ll find parking anywhere much closer, which will only make them later by the time they circle back. “Come on.” 

Rin gives him a last incredulous look, then shrugs and whips into the lot; by the time they’re out of the car, his good mood’s returned, and he doesn’t balk at all for Haruka paying. “Let’s go, Haru,” he calls with a wave of his hand as soon as he’s pulled their ticket, like it was all his idea, but Haruka rolls his eyes good-naturedly and lets him have it, falls into step beside him to his right as they start their dash toward the venue. “This is crazy, right before the All-Japan!” Rin declares with a laugh, and it is a little bit, Haruka thinks, but,

“Not crazy; free,” he gives back, which makes Rin laugh again. They don’t say anything more, put their focus on running without knocking into anyone, on getting there, but Haruka can’t keep the smile from his lips. They’re both right, he decides as he feels the light burn through his lungs, but the risk is worth it when their friends are on the other side.

_We’ll see each other in not too long though._

His words to Makoto echo through his mind and, smile widening, Haruka runs just a little bit harder.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milestones are witnessed, news is shared, and Haruka and Makoto learn a bit more about themselves (and Extraordinary becomes the longest fic I've ever written!)

By the time Rin and Haruka make it inside, the commentator is calling the start of the 100-meter butterfly qualifiers. Breathless, they pause at the railing and look down from the gallery, trying to spot the groups from Iwatobi and Samezuka. The former is easier given the bright yellow, but Rin spies his kouhai almost as quickly, and they part ways, knowing that they’ll find each other after. Their groups inevitably migrate toward each other, after all.

Nagisa is the first to see him, and the way his face lights up as he flies to his feet warms Haruka through, brings a smile to his lips. Gou’s next, and then Asahi and Kisumi together, and god, Haruka hadn’t realized how much he’s missed Asahi until just then; his bright, steadfast presence, the time they’d spend together. But then the group shifts just enough to give Haruka a clear shot of Makoto, and _everything_ just kind of fades to the background as the two of them meet eyes, Makoto’s shock fading to a warm, affectionate joy as he breathes, “You came!”

“Sorry I’m late,” he replies, and he knows that he shouldn’t stare like he is, but he _just can’t look away._ Makoto dismisses the apology with a shake of his head and then meets his eyes again; Haruka’s heart flips just a bit when he sees the longing that he himself feels in Makoto’s gaze, but then Makoto turns away and leans over the railing to call out to Rei, who’s in position just behind his starting block.

Rei turns with the call and Asahi gives a gasp of surprise as Nagisa murmurs his name. “This’ll be the first time I see him swim!” Asahi says excitedly, which makes Haruka curious, but—for the moment, anyway—it’s short-lived. His eyes meet Rei’s and Rei’s happy surprise rivals that of Makoto’s. It’s enough to send another rush of warmth through him, a gentle, humbling sort; Haruka knows that Rei considers him his inspiration, that Haruka is why he’s chosen to swim, and it never ceases to overwhelm him a bit. Because Rei is _good_ , and smart, and will do things that Haruka will never be capable of; had been an award-winning athlete in his chosen sport, and Haruka’s swimming had been enough to change and free him.

When Rei makes his dive, Haruka shouts for him with Nagisa and the others. The way the Iwatobi contingency cheers Rei on brings a slight lump of pride to his throat, because out of them all, Rei deserves it. That he’s come so far in just three years is incredible, and when he takes first in his heat, Haruka cheers himself raw with everyone else, even though he just barely misses making the finals.

“I still can’t believe he goes to Iwatobi!” Asahi breathes, and Makoto nods, tells Asahi that they’ll be good rivals. He’s curious, too, Haruka can see it, but there isn’t time to ask Asahi how he even _knows_ Rei. Not yet. As soon as the 100-meter butterfly finishes, Nagisa’s swimming next.

The fans from Iwatobi cheer the bubbly blond as he goes by; his friends wish him quieter, but just as fervent luck, even Asahi, who’s only just met him. He looks calm, determined, more mature than Haruka has ever seen him. Nagisa, more than anything, seems to tell of the time that has passed, of how they’ve all matured, and it leaves him with a wistful feeling, but not a melancholy one. He wouldn’t go back. He’s been through too much to get to where he is now. But he’s _incredibly_ glad that they’ve remained friends, Makoto and Nagisa, Haruka and Rei. And he knows those bonds will last his lifetime.

Nagisa takes his block, turns to give them one last look before facing forward with the call to take their marks. They all shout for Nagisa as he makes his dive, Rei’s coming above them all, and they all watch as Nagisa catches up to Nitori’s lead. Their excited whispering about Nagisa’s burst of speed fades into tense holds of breaths as, neck and neck, they close in on the finish, and there’s a moment of stunned silence when Nagisa just barely loses, but then they all cheer for him loudly as he comes out of the water because it had been _incredibly_ close. 

The events draw to a quick close after that, and after Nagisa tells them where they’ll meet him once the teams are done with their debriefs, Haruka and Makoto head outside with Asahi and Kisumi. “God, it’s good to see you again!” Asahi blurts as he flings an arm around Haruka’s shoulders; Haruka tenses, but only slightly and he doesn’t bat the arm away because he trusts Asahi and Asahi knows him; surely enough, it’s only a matter of seconds before he drops the embrace.

“You too,” Haruka replies, acutely aware of Makoto, who’s standing just behind him, and it’s both a wonderful thing and incredibly difficult having him so close after all this time. “Just a couple more weeks and I’ll be back,” he says, though he knows it’s as much for him and Makoto as it is for Asahi.

“Good thing, too.” Haruka looks askance at Kisumi. “He’s pouty without his study buddy. I might be jealous if I didn’t know there wasn’t any reason to be,” he shares with that foxy grin, which makes Haruka’s eyes roll and causes Asahi to bluster. Makoto laughs softly—music to Haruka’s ears—and does what he does; diffuses the situation.

“Ne, Asahi, how do you know Rei?” Makoto smiles when Asahi’s attention shifts to him. “I didn’t know you did until you commented about getting to see him swim!”

“Ah!” Asahi grins. “That Rei, he helped me out once when we were kids! Remember, our first sleepover at Haru’s? When I told you about the kid with glasses? In the library?”

Haruka’s brow briefly furrows and then his eyes go wide at about the same time Makoto exclaims.

“Ahh! The one who gave you a hand with the self-help books!” Makoto recalls. “That was Rei?”

“Ah! Pretty cool, yeah?”

“It’s wonderful!” Makoto agrees with a delighted laugh, and Haruka agrees, even as he’s a bit awed once again by the odd way in which fate works sometimes.

They talk for a few more minutes, the four of them, and then Asahi reminds Kisumi that they’re babysitting that night and have to leave. “You should come with, Makoto!”

“No he shouldn’t!” They all look at Kisumi in surprise. “If he does, then Tsukushi-chan won’t want anything to do with me!”

“That’s because Tsukushi has good taste,” Haruka deadpans.

“Hey! Hey!” Kisumi says again with a pout when Asahi holds his stomach in laughter and Makoto stifles his behind his hand. “Mean, Haru,” Kisumi declares, though his eyes are sparkling as well, and the four of them make quick plans to meet up after the All Japan for a quick coffee before they go their separate ways for Obon.

Team Iwatobi comes down the steps just as Asahi and Kisumi disappear from sight. Haruka congratulates both Nagisa and Rei again when they join them. The two new members hang back a bit, shyly, so at first, it’s just the four of them. It brings back all the lunches, afternoons and evenings they’ve spent together, reminds Haruka even more so than their Skype conversation had of how much he misses them.

Gou calls them all together for a quick picture, and as they dissipate after, Haruka and Makoto hear Rin shouting at Sousuke over something. Haruka smirks slightly at Makoto’s surprise as they go join the other two.

“Rin, I can’t believe you’re here, too!” Makoto says, smiling widely, and then, looking between the two of them, he asks, “You’re sure it’s alright?”

“It’s fine,” Haruka assures, and then, as his gaze drifts to the new _Team Iwatobi_ , “I wouldn’t have felt right if I couldn’t have been here.”

“Same,” Rin says softly as he looks at his own kouhai, “They helped get me here, are important bonds to me, too.” His smile sharpens then and he looks to Haruka. “We’re next, Haru!” he says excitedly, and Haruka nods.

The All-Japan Invitational.” Excitement thrums through him with the thought and his hands curl lightly.

“I can’t believe it’s next week already.” Makoto softly laughs. “And I can’t believe I’m saying that, because it feels like it’s been forever getting here, too.” A wistfulness creeps into his tone, so slight that Haruka wonders if he’s the only one that hears it, and he definitely knows he’s the only one aware of its source. “You probably have to be heading back soon, huh?” Makoto asks, and Haruka glances up at him, wishes he could reassure him, wishes more that they had time somewhere private, even just a few minutes, to be alone.

“Rin.” Haruka starts slightly at Sousuke’s voice, feels Makoto do so as well; they both quickly look in his direction. “I’ve got to catch the bus for the station.” Rin looks confused, but Sousuke just continues to hold his eyes, and after a second or two, Rin shrugs and nods, turns toward Haruka and Makoto. “I’ll be back. Then we pro’lly should head out ourselves. Mikhail was cool about letting me go but he’ll be pissy if I’m not back in time for a full night’s sleep before he starts working me again tomorrow.”

“Ah, Azuma, too,” Haruka agrees, and after saying their goodbyes to Sousuke, they watch the two walk away. “That was odd.”

“Mm, maybe not.” Haruka looks at him curiously, brow furrowing further when he sees the light pink in Makoto’s cheeks. “Sousuke’s like you. He watches, sees things. And besides, I’m pretty sure he has feelings for Rin,” he muses softly. “So, he could have picked up on something. Especially from me,” he admits with a slight smile. “You know we’ve hung out a few different times since he’s been in Tokyo for his rehab. Haru?”

Haruka closes his mouth, shakes his head, and then, after a slight pause, tells Makoto about Mikoshiba, about Kiryuu, knowing that Makoto won’t say anything. “Rin might have feelings for Sousuke, too,” he says slowly as he recalls what he’d noticed from the redhead in the car. “And I just…” His brow furrows softly again. “With Asahi and Kisumi, and us, doesn’t it seem like a lot?” Especially since he hadn’t even known about himself until Makoto— _still_ isn’t sure that ‘gay’ is the right fit for him, because it’s _only_ Makoto.

Makoto slowly nods, obviously as caught off-guard as Haruka had been. “Or maybe it only seems like a lot because Iwatobi’s so small?”

“Ah, maybe.” Their phones beep then and they both bring them out; Kou’s transferred the photo she’d taken from her camera to her cell and has sent it to them. He smiles a bit at it, then looks up when he hears Makoto’s soft chuckle.

“I’ve not seen that in an _age!_ ” He reaches over and lightly touches the old cellphone charm on Haruka’s phone with a finger. “What made you put _that_ on?”

Haruka colors, turns his head away. “Nothing,” he huffs, lightly batting Makoto’s hand away from it, but all Makoto does is laugh again and, eyes sparkling, he gives Haruka a nudge toward a bench just a bit off of the path. It’s still not _private,_ but it’s out of the way enough for them to sit a bit closer, with _just_ enough space between them to maintain propriety. Makoto smiles down at him. “I’m so glad you came Haru-chan,” he says softly, letting more emotion filter into his voice than he had before. 

“Me too,” he says, lips curving slightly, and he is, but it’s so hard, too. Makoto’s right there, closer than he’s been in _weeks,_ and he wants to even just _take his hand_ so badly. 

“But it’s hard, too, huh.” Haruka looks up, sees that wistfulness in Makoto’s eyes again. “Seeing you, hearing you, feeling you with me, it’s so great after so long! But to have you so close and I can’t even hold your hand… plus, it makes me miss your kisses and holding you even more,” he admits softly.

“Makoto. Me too.” Haruka sees that Makoto’s eyes have drifted downward to his mouth and he warms slightly, draws his lips in to moisten them before he’s half realized what he’s done.

“Haru-chan,” Makoto’s fingers curl against his jeans, his low mutter a tone that sends a thrill through him; Haruka looks up at him through his lashes and Makoto’s breath catches, then releases, soft and shuddering. “Just seven more days, Haru,” Makoto murmurs, “Seven more days, and then Obon after that. And I’ve all of that weekend off for your tournament. I’ll work hard so I don’t have any coursework, and when you’re done on Saturday, we’ll go home and—"

“Yo.” Haruka and Makoto both start and then they both blush profusely; they hadn’t realized their heads had dipped so closely until they’d about knocked them with Rin’s call. Rin laughs at them, and then, as it slows, his brows shoot up. “What’s going on?” he asks curiously, eyes flickering between the two of them, and Haruka quickly shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Right.” Rin draws the word out, gaze narrowing suspiciously, and anxiety flickers low through Haruka’s gut. It isn’t Rin’s business, not really, but Haruka feels a little caught. Rin’s important to them both, as much of a pain as he can be, and they were going to tell him anyway; he obviously knows that it _wasn’t_ ‘nothing’, and if Haruka persists, even if he does buy the lie, he’ll be hurt later. “Right,” Rin says again, and for a split second, Haruka thinks they’ve been given a pass, but then, “Out with it, Makoto. What’s going on?”

Makoto gapes softly, and then, slightly frantically, “Wait, why are you calling _me_ out?”

“Because something’s up, and I know Haru won’t say anything!”

“Well I won’t, either!”

Haruka mentally facepalms because Makoto’s obvious panic is only making it clearer that they’re keeping something from Rin. “Makoto,” he mutters, and Makoto glances at him, his pretty eyes anxious and harried. Haruka presses his lips, then gives a barely-there nod; Makoto studies him for a second then shows a negligible smile as the franticness fades.

“I swear to god, the two of you! Fuck, fine. I don’t care to know then,” Rin huffs, turning away from them sharply, but Haruka hears the undercurrent of hurt beneath the words.

“Rin.” Haruka looks at Makoto when he gently calls for their friend, watches as he gets up and lightly touches his arm. “Rin, please.” Haruka rolls his eyes when Rin just huffs again, but sweet, patient Makoto just waits until, after another second or two, Rin at least looks over his shoulder.

“It’s too public here, Rin,” he explains quietly, “But can you and Haru spare the time to give me a lift home?”

Rin studies him for a moment and then the petulance fades from his expression; he gives a small smile and a nod. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” 

They’re all pretty quiet on the walk. The sidewalks are crowded with the foot traffic rush, but they’re all in their heads, too, Haruka suspects. He knows that Makoto is anxious, can tell from his energy, from how close he’s walking. And he’s sure that Rin is chomping at the bit to hear what they have to say. He’s anxious, too, but—oddly enough—not as badly as he’d been with Nagisa and Rei. He’s not sure why, wonders if it has anything to do with Rin maybe being the same, or maybe because they’ve been through it once already.

When they get to the car and Rin goes around to the driver’s side, Makoto briefly, discreetly, catches Haruka’s fingers; they both squeeze and then Makoto gets into the back behind Haruka’s seat. “Alright, spill,” Rin demands as soon as Makoto has given his address and they’re safely situated in traffic.

“Right.”

“Makoto and I are together.” Haruka catches Makoto’s eyes in apology through the rearview mirror for having talked over him, might have been tempted to chuckle at his shock if the situation were any different. But it’s taking what he has to maintain his cool demeanor because this is _Rin_ , and he doesn’t know what either of them will do if he isn’t accepting—and why had he even thought that he wasn’t as nervous now as he’d been then?

The silence drags on, and on, and _on,_ with Rin just… driving, and then at the next light, he looks from Haruka to Makoto’s eyes in the mirror, and then back to Haruka again. His brow arches. “What, you mean that’s it?”

“Rin!” Makoto sputters as Haruka’s lips part slightly in shock.

Rin sighs heavily and drops his head back against the headrest. “Christ, I thought one of you was dying or something!” he grouses, though he’s obviously relieved.

“Well?” Haruka demands tersely after another second or two of nothing, and Rin looks at him as he reengages the gear and starts moving forward again.

“Well what?” Haruka’s brows shoot up and Rin snorts, shakes his head. “Seriously? C’mon, Haru, the two of you have been obvious for ages. Ever since I came back from Sydney, at any rate. I figured it was just a matter of time; kinda surprised it didn’t happen sooner,” he mutters as he makes a turn.

“Even me?” Haruka asks, still stuck on having been obvious to Rin for that long, because _he_ sure the hell hadn’t had a clue.

“ _Especially_ you, god,” Rin declares with a chortle. “Makoto’s the only one you’ve ever let in close, even as kids. Haru, I’ve had you pegged as demi for years.”

“What’s that?”

Rin’s brows shoot up when Makoto’s query comes along with Haruka’s, and then his entire expression changes. “Sometimes I forget the two of you were never out of Iwatobi before a few months back,” he says softly, affectionately. “It means you only want to _be with_ someone if you’ve got a strong emotional bond with them.” And the way he emphasizes _be with_ draws heat to Haruka’s cheeks but leaves no room for error in what he’d meant.

“So that’s me, too, then,” Makoto says in soft wonderment, and Rin glances up at him through the mirror.

“’parently, though I wasn’t as sure with you as I was with Haru. I mean, you’re so sweet with everyone, Makoto, even the girls who flock about you. I thought you might be bi.”

“Just because I’m kind to people doesn’t mean I want to sleep with them!” Makoto bristles, face beet red, and Rin laughs.

“Okay, okay, fair.” He flashes his teeth. “Different story when it comes to Haru though, eh?”

“Rin!”

“What about you, then?” Haruka demands bluntly, because he doesn’t care that it’s Rin. Makoto’s mortified and Rin’s laughter _isn’t helping_ , and besides, god only knows what’ll come from Rin’s stupid mouth next if Haruka doesn’t shut him down. “And Sousuke?”

Rin gapes, his face going about as red as Makoto’s had been. Haruka smirks.

“Why the hell’d you ask about Sousuke?” he demands once he stops sputtering, and Haruka shrugs nonchalantly, ignoring Makoto’s softly reproachful _Haru_. “God I hate you sometimes,” Rin mutters, and then, “I think both can be hot,” he admits with a shrug of his own. “And I think I liked Sousuke before I really even knew what that meant,” he admits, more quietly, after a moment. “I figured it out, though, figured _me_ out, about two years into Sydney. I… don’t know for sure about Sousuke, though. I think he might maybe like me?” he says with an uncertainty that Haruka’s not heard from him before, “But about the time he started really opening up was when I had to go away, and it’s just hard when we hardly see each other, you know?” 

“You should talk to him, Rin.” Haruka turns his head when Makoto speaks, sees Rin looking at him through the mirror, and a suspicious tremor run through Rin’s lower lip a moment later when Makoto puts a light hand to Rin’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Don’t make him cry, Makoto. He’ll crash the car.”

“Haru!”

“Haru, you shit!” Rin blusters over Makoto’s softer, amused one. “I wasn’t gonna cry!”

“Mm hmm.”

“Alright, you two.”

Haruka can’t help but smile, and it broadens a bit when he sees one curve Rin’s lips. Over a decade later and, for all that they’ve changed, they really haven’t. And he knows they’re _all_ good with that.

It isn’t much later when Rin turns onto Makoto’s street and Haruka’s quiet sigh carries away his lighthearted contentedness. He knows it’s just one more week but, in the moment, it feels like forever, and some of that early forlornness creeps back in as Rin pulls into a parking slip outside of Makoto’s building.

“Thanks, Rin,” Makoto says quietly, and Haruka can hear the forced smile in his voice, which makes his heart hurt even more. “I’ll see you both at the All-Japan,” he continues in that falsely bright tone as he opens the door.

“Oi!” Haruka says sharply when, as it closes, Rin elbows him. Rin just smirks and jerks his chin to Haruka’s right.

“Go on. I’m gonna have to leave your ass if you take too long, though,” he warns, but the last words come as Haruka’s closing the door.

“Makoto,” he calls, and Makoto pauses—and then starts walking faster after a second of holding Haruka’s gaze.

Haruka doesn’t think they’ve ever made the trip up to his apartment more quickly.

There’s a moment of impatient hilarity as Makoto fumbles with his keys, but he eventually makes them do what they’re meant to. Once in the genkan, though, the giddy snickering stops; he drops his bag as Haruka slides the door shut and then they’re on each other, Makoto pulling him close as Haruka reaches up, tangles his hands in Makoto’s hair to bring their mouths together. There’s no softness, no gentle reacquainting, just desperate want and hunger, and a battle between them for the first time ever as their tongues try and push into each other’s mouths. It’s hot, and wet, and _hot,_ and Haruka’s both hateful of and grateful for the clothing between them because he knows that, if he were to feel any more of Makoto than what he is right now, he’d be in _so much trouble_. As it is, he’s starting to get hard, and when Makoto’s hands travel to his ass to pull him even closer, he groans lowly into Makoto’s mouth and then forces himself to break away.

“Ma—mm…” His eyes roll lightly and his fingers bite into Makoto’s shoulders through his shirt as Makoto’s mouth travels along his jaw to that spot behind his ear. “Makoto, we have to stop. Rin…”

Makoto pauses, then nods, softly swallows; he pulls back, rests his forehead against Haruka’s. “Sorry, Haru-chan,” he murmurs, bringing fingers up to lightly wipe away the trail of moisture he’d left on Haruka’s neck. He draws a breath, releases it slowly. “Just seven days.”

“Ah.” Haruka straightens but then presses his mouth to Makoto’s when Makoto does as well, and _this_ kiss is soft, but as full of promise as it is wistful. “And then Obon after that,” he finishes what has become somewhat of a mantra for them both. “I love you.” His eyes close when Makoto’s hand comes up to lovingly cup his cheek.

“I love Haru-chan, too.” Makoto presses a final kiss to his lips, then drops his hands and steps back. “Better go, or I might not let you at all,” he teases, but with just enough seriousness in his eyes that warmth curls low through Haruka’s gut. He nods, then with a quick, small smile, lets himself out the door. 

Rin is blissfully quiet as he gets into the car, and Haruka breathes a quiet sigh as he puts the vehicle into gear.

“Ne, Haru—”

_Shit._

“—you’ve got a bit of something on your—”

“Seriously, Rin, must you?” he cuts off sharply, cheeks flaring, because he knows that there isn’t anything anywhere, but for _gods sake!_

Rin laughs as he eases back into the traffic. “So, how long?” he ask a few minutes later, and he catches Haruka’s eye through the mirror. “Before the training camp?”

Something changes in Rin’s tone with the last and it sends a ripple of discomfort through Haruka’s gut as he nods. “Since the end of May.” Rin draws a soft, hissing breath through his teeth, and Haruka’s stomach lightly gnaws. “Don’t.” he says curtly, because he knows exactly what Rin’s thinking, as if he isn’t frequently tearing himself up about those twelve days even now. “I feel bad enough about it already.”

“You should,” Rin says plainly. “It’s Makoto, man. I know he’s loved you forever just like you’ve always been into him, and he’s put up with more of your shit than anyone. He deserves better.”

“I know,” Haruka says tautly, but it’s more from hearing it put into words than from the lecture itself. It’s a pain that it’s coming from _Rin_ of all people, but he has it coming. And he isn’t surprised, either. Rin’s never shied away from getting in his face about… well, _anything_ , and Haruka knows that Makoto is as important to Rin as he is.

“Good. He was really sad and worried when I asked about you before we came that day, you know.” Rin chuckles then, and Haruka’s brows arch, but before he can demand _what,_ “Not that I suspected anything by that. He’s always been sad and worried when it comes to you.”

“Oi!”

“Tch. Don’t get all bunched! You know how I meant it. He’s just always loved you, like I said, and he’s always worried for you. So it wasn’t like it was a huge giveaway that you two hooked up, is all. You’re lucky, Haru,” Rin says in a softer tone. He chuckles then. “But I suppose he could do worse than you, too.”

Haruka rests a heated cheek against the window, lips curved up despite himself. “Same with Sousuke. About you. He could do worse.” He glances sidelong at Rin. “You should talk to him. Like Makoto said.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Rin hedges, and then, hesitantly, “What if I’m wrong, though? I mean, I just got him back. I don’t want to lose him again.” And Haruka gets it. It’s a different situation entirely than how he and Makoto had been, but the fear itself is the same.

“It’s a risk,” he admits quietly. “But if you have feelings for him and you _don’t_ talk to him, things will probably change anyway. Because it starts to change you, the wondering and weight of it. That’s how it was with me before I talked to Makoto, anyway.”

“Wait, you came to him?”

Haruka’s face warms again, but he nods against the glass. “Ah. I thought maybe he might feel the same once I figured out what I felt. And then I had to. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“You’ve changed, Haru.” Haruka rights his head, Rin’s words and tone both drawing his curiosity. “Don’t get me wrong, you can still be a dick,” he says with a flash of a cheeky grin that makes Haruka roll his eyes and put his head back down again, but then, “But you’re more open now. You _talk_ now.”

“I talked before,” Haruka bristles.

“Right. My bad,” Rin deadpans. “I should have said you converse. Christ. There’s nothing wrong with being a bit softer around the edges, you know.”

“Maybe,” Haruka cedes after a moment, and then he catches Rin’s eyes in the mirror. “My competitive edge is plenty sharp, though. I’m still going to beat you in the one-hundred next weekend.”

Rin’s brows arch and then his teeth flash. “Like hell! Next weekend,” he echoes after a second or two passes, and then he grins again. “I’m excited, Haru!”

Haruka smiles a bit as he meets Rin’s eyes. “Me too.”

_Just seven days._

He’s excited for many reasons.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka reflects, camp comes to an end, and home is finally within his sights

The pool is empty when Haruka walks up to it. The _room_ is empty. The lights aren’t even on, and the early morning sunlight lends a gentle glow that doesn’t _quite_ rival that of the sunrise on the ocean, but that soothes him nearly as much. The scent of chlorine hangs heavy in the air, the slap of his footfalls echo, and the water is like glass as he steps onto the starting block. It’s one of those rare, perfect moments where he wouldn’t change a thing, and his body tingles with anticipation, with his eagerness to meet the water again, as he takes his position.

Haruka pushes into his dive and his heart soars as if its been given wings. In the less than two seconds it takes for him to break the surface, countless images filter through his mind as it’s freed from the remnants of sleep and the shackle of stress over what’s to come; memories of him and the water greeting each other, from clear back to when he’d been a small boy. For as rapidly as they come, they still soothe him, remind him of their connection, assure him that, when he and the water meet again later that day at the All Japan in the two-hundred meter, it will be as friends and lifelong companions with a bond that _no one_ can take away.

When Haruka nears the touchpad at the far wall, he flips and pushes off with all his strength, but after a couple of strokes, he lets himself coast, flips over onto his back. Technically, he’s still on taper and shouldn’t even be there, so he supposes he’ll compromise, he decides, and just float until he has to get out. Just five minutes, he’d told himself when he’d decided to come down before meeting Asuma for breakfast prior to leaving. And he’ll keep to it. He will. He’d just needed to free himself, to remind himself of why he loves swimming, loves the crawl, so much, after the rush of the week and with the anxious excitement for what’s to come.

In just a few hours’ time, Haruka will, literally and figuratively, be on the starting block taking his shot for Team Japan. It puts him in a bit of a daze, make his stomach flip with nerves, even though he knows that he’s positioned to place in both of his events. Azuma doesn’t praise lightly, and when he does, it’s more a statement of a truth than anything. So Haruka had trusted when he’d said that, in his last trial run before taper, he would have beaten Wahlander. By just under a tenth of a second, Azuma had made a point to share, but he’d done it. In this moment, though, it does little to soothe him. He’s never really been prone to _what ifs_ , but this tournament, it’s _huge_ and, though Haruka knows he’s literally just _months_ into his journey, he feels as if everything is hanging on his races today.

Haruka’s stomach whorls uncomfortably and, with a huff, he turns and shifts back into his crawl, though he does fight the urge to go all out in it. He wants to do well today, after all, and he can’t deny that taper does help in shaving those vital tenths and hundredths of seconds off. But he has to do _something_ to expend that nervous energy.

The water takes it from him, carrying it away with his rhythmic splashes, and offering cool tranquility in its place. By the time he hits the far wall and turns, his thoughts have as well, not to what he might gain later, but to the things that the water has already brought to him. Asahi. Ikuya. Rin.

Rin. Haruka’s lips curve slightly as he rolls back into his float. They’re so different, the two of them. Fire and water; opposite ends of the spectrum. Not even their love of the sport they share is the same. Rin loves to swim and Haruka loves the water, and yes, there is crossover there and they both have come to love the other side of that proverbial coin because of it, but it’s an entirely different thing that drives each of them to be their best. Really, at times, it’s laughable to think that they’re even friends, never mind such close ones. But Haruka can’t imagine going back to a life without him. Rin’s important, on an entirely different level than anyone else, and they can push each other _unlike_ anyone else. They’ve both experienced things that none of their other friends can share, too. The loss of a beloved loved one. The loss of oneself. And Haruka is so glad that he hadn’t been alone in a completely foreign country like Rin had been, is _so_ glad that he’d never been outside of a hand’s reach, is _so, **so** glad _that Makoto never _stopped_ reaching, no matter how many times he was ignored or shut out.

He’s glad that, the one time even Makoto hadn’t been able to reach him, Rin had been there.

Rin had been there for both of them, really. Haruka knows that now; knows that, at his wit’s end, Makoto had called Rin to enlist his help. Haruka’s heart aches when he thinks about that, about how Makoto must have felt knowing that, for the first time _ever_ , Haruka had been beyond his reach. It hurts to think of how Haruka had just… gone without a word, had left him alone, _again_ , to do nothing but wait and wonder. Especially now that he knows just how broken Makoto had been.

Haruka’s eyes narrow softly. That won’t happen again. “It won’t,” he quietly avows to the water when his mind tries to prickle at him for the twelve days he’d done exactly that. And he hopes with all that he has that he won’t break that promise again, but he also knows that he is very human and _very_ imperfect so all he can do is follow that vow with another that, if he _does_ mess up again, he’ll make that promise as many times as he needs to until he gets it right. 

_You’re too hard on yourself, Haru-chan._

It isn’t the first time that Haruka’s heard Makoto’s voice through his head and, more often than not, it’s been in this sort of circumstance; times when he _is_ being hard on himself or feeling guilty over something. It’s been that way for years, though, and Haruka’s come to trust it, because he trusts Makoto implicitly. So, he usually ends up heeding the voice, if not the first time, then eventually—which sends a very _Makoto like_ huff of amused irritation through his mind and pulls a soft grin to his lips. Yes, Haruka has the most important 200-meter of his life to get through today, and yes, he wants to win and, if not win, then at least _place._ But not even that, nor any title or medal he may score in the future, can overshadow what’s already waiting for him at home. A gentle laugh, a soft smile, the most beautiful eyes and generous heart; those strong and capable hands, that kissable mouth, _Makoto._ A body and soul made for Nanase Haruka _alone_ to love, to _have_ … and, with a soft huff of his own, Haruka flips and dives back beneath the water as a different sort of energy tries to thrum through him.

_Better go, or I might not let you at all._

Warmth pulses through Haruka despite his attempt to distract himself, and it’s enough of a contrast to the water surrounding him that he feels his flesh break into bumps. Those words, that look, that _kiss,_ Makoto’s hands so boldly on his ass as they’d practically devoured each other, it’s all haunted him more than once since that night, and it’s been as frustrating as it has been scintillating. He’s rarely alone in his room, so the times when he’s not been able to mentally talk himself down he’s had to time it just right and rush himself through taking care of things. Not that it ever takes _long_ ; it’s _Makoto_ , and Haruka’s imagination is a vivid one. But it’s still so new to him, the need beyond the physiological, and he wants to explore, to savor it, like he does his other obsessions.

_Just seven days…_

Haruka will admit that the time had flown, but he’ll admit even more that he’s glad they’re down to just over 12 hours—albeit a little longer than that before he and Makoto will be alone. And he knows that Makoto is counting the time as well. They’d spoken of it, had counted the days down, every time they’d text or talk. And besides, that night, Makoto had been so _hungry,_ not shy at _all,_ and the things that Haruka’s mind likes to throw at him from that...

 _Damn it!_ Haruka huffs again and pushes into another lap. It absolutely _has_ to be his last; he knows he’s over the five minutes he’d allotted himself and he really doesn’t need anyone to come looking for him since he’s not supposed to be there in the first place. So, as he makes his turn this time, he forces himself to slow to where, after a handful of seconds, he just lets his momentum carry him the rest of the way to the edge, and then he stands, takes off his cap and goggles, flips the droplets of water from the ends of his hair.

“How are you doing?”

Haruka’s eyes widen slightly when he hears Azuma’s voice, but there’s nothing hidden in his tone. It seems a genuine question, so he doesn’t _think_ he’s in trouble.

“Nervous?” Azuma asks him as he looks up, and Haruka sees that he’s smiling a bit, as if he’s not surprised in the least to have found him in the one place he shouldn’t have been. It’s assuring, he thinks, that Azuma knows him enough to understand he wasn’t disobeying the rules _per se_ , but rather, that he was simply seeking solace in the one thing that would bring it to him there. 

“Not really,” he replies as he pulls himself out, and it’s true, he finds. That anxiety _is_ still there; he’d be a fool if he didn’t feel it a _little_. It’s a huge thing he’s facing today. But it’s quieter now, manageable, and he can see that Azuma had understood that, too, by the way his lips quirk just a bit higher.

“Good to hear,” he says, and he tosses Haruka his towel, but at just the right level to where it gently floats to cover Haruka’s head and most of his face before he can snag it. His own lips quirk slightly behind it before he pulls it down to his shoulders. “So, I guess it’s time,” Azuma muses, and Haruka quietly agrees, inwardly amused and relieved both by his coach’s playfulness. He knows Azuma a bit better now, too; knows that he wouldn’t be so lax if he felt Haruka was lacking. “Right, then. Let’s grab some breakfast. My treat.” Haruka smirks a bit as he falls into line behind him, as the meals are free. “I’ll even let you have your precious saba.”

Haruka grins, he can’t help it. A day that starts with saba and ends with Makoto can only be good.

The meal passes as most of theirs usually do, largely quietly. Neither of them are talkers, even when they’re in lighter moods, and it’s another thing that Haruka has come to appreciate about Azuma. As they’re finishing up, they make plans to meet just inside of the venue’s entrance back in Tokyo, and then Azuma takes off.

After he’s done, Haruka goes upstairs, packs the very last few things into the duffel he’ll take to the venue, then grabs it, and his two others, which—they were told—will be taken to their locker room at Hidaka by one of their managers. Kiryuu comes in and Haruka waits for him, then they head back down together. It’s an odd feeling, he thinks, as they say goodbye to some of the acquaintances they’ve made and then board the bus with the others who are heading back to Tokyo. They’ve spent the entire month together and it’s come to feel as if they’re a team, but there isn’t a guarantee that any of them will see each other again. It’ll all depend on how they do at the qualifier.

And, like that, the nervousness that the water had carried away is back again.

Haruka isn’t the only one. He knows it. The entire bus is filled with that same anxious energy that he’d felt before the intercollegiate, but it doesn’t provide him any comfort; it just augments his own. He can’t blame anyone for it, he just wishes he wasn’t so sensitive to it, wishes that he could go back to the pool and lose himself in the calm, quiet water again. But he can’t, so the coolness of the bus window will have to do. Not that it can really compare, but it’s something tangible, at least. A focal point of sorts.

“Nanase?”

Haruka cracks an eye open, sees Kiryuu looking at him in concern. “I’m fine,” he says quietly, and then, when Kiryuu’s brow arches slightly in callout, “I just want to swim.” Which is true, regardless as to how Kiryuu decides to take it.

He laughs. “Even after a month of doing nothing but, ne? I’m not surprised.” He grins softly as he settles back into his seat and the bus takes off. “I think we’re all ready to today, though. For as much as we’ve all been working toward it, I think we’re all ready for it to be over with, too. Even those of us who don’t have someone waiting for us on the other side of it,” he teases, and it’s so quiet that Haruka _knows_ he’s the only one that hears, but his face warms anyway.

“Be quiet.” He cracks his eye open again as Kiryuu gives another of his soft laughs. “Will you and Sota see each other for Obon?” he asks just as discreetly, and he can tell from how Kiryuu’s eyes light up that it’s a _yes_ before he even speaks it.

“Mm. We’ll have almost the entire break together.” Kiryuu’s eyes roll lightly. “Well, we’ll both be home at the same time, anyway,” he amends. “We’ll have to share the time with our families, too. That was hard,” he shares quietly as Haruka opens both eyes to look at him. “I was pretty afraid. We both were. But it’s not something we wanted to keep from them like we were ashamed, you know?” Haruka nods and Kiryuu smiles a bit again. “Thank god Dad and Sota’s parents were alright with it. It doesn’t always work out that way.”

Haruka sees the unasked question in Kiryuu’s eyes and he lightly moistens his lips. “Ours don’t know yet,” he admits, which is true; Makoto’s know how Makoto feels, his dad does at least, but they don’t know that Haruka feels the same, that they’re together. That said, Makoto’s parents aren’t the ones he’s worried about. “We’re going to talk to them when we’re home on break. We’re not ashamed, either.” He feels his face warm with the admission, and then further when Kiryuu gives him a gentle, compassionate look.

“I hope you have the same luck we did, Nanase,” he says sincerely, and Haruka nods and closes his eyes again.

“Thanks.” He does, too, but he presses his lips together and firmly puts _that_ worry to the side. He can’t afford to give it any energy; he needs to keep his focus on his race. Honestly, what happens will, and he’ll get through it. He’ll have Makoto at his side either way.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tournament begins, a long due conversation is had, and some ill-timed advice causes Haruka to question his path

As soon as Haruka steps into the International Swimming Center, he sees Azuma. His eyes lightly roll even as the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. He’s thumbing through something on his phone, likely his food blog, Haruka thinks, though Azuma stops and pockets the device as he comes closer. Before he quite gets to him, Haruka’s cell goes off; it’s the text tone he’d assigned to Makoto, and he slows his steps as he retrieves his phone and accesses the message.

_Section D, tier two, fifth row. You’ll be great, Haru-chan! I love you!_

Haruka’s lips curve up slightly as a gentle warmth flows through him, and _oh,_ he wishes he could go through the doors with the rest of his team so that he could look up into section D and _see_ ; see that smile that’s just for him, the one that he can feel no matter how far apart they are when Makoto gives it.

 _Soon,_ Haruka reminds himself after sending a quick, _you, too_ , and then he returns his phone to his pocket, ignoring the hint of heat he feels in his cheeks when he sees the odd look that Azuma’s giving him. “It’s nothing,” he says as Azuma quirks a brow at him in question as he approaches, and he pretends to not hear the disbelieving grunt the man gives. It’s really not Azuma’s business.

“Ready?” Azuma asks, and Haruka nods. “Let’s go, then.” They head toward the long hall that will take them into the natatorium and, as they approach, Haruka sees Rin coming from the opposite direction with a man that he can only assume is his coach—and Azuma’s former rival. Rin’s teeth flash with the excited grin he gives as soon as he spies Haruka, and Haruka’s lips curve slightly in response as a flicker of anticipation runs through him. It’s such a huge, _huge_ day for them both but, with Rin there, it’s familiar, too; if Makoto can’t be there at Haruka’s side, then he’s glad that Rin can be.

“Haru, you’re late!” Rin calls out in lieu of greeting as he comes to a stop, and Haruka lightly rolls his eyes as he takes the few steps to meet him.

“Seems I got here about the same time as you,” he deadpans with a slightly arched brow, which makes Rin laugh, and Haruka’s smile briefly broadens into a grin.

“Ryuuji!” Haruka’s head jerks in surprise at the unexpected call, and his eyes go wide as he watches Rin’s coach practically run toward Azuma, arms poised to fling into a hug. Haruka _knows._ It’s a signature Nagisa move. He lightly bites his lip in a mixture of amusement and anticipation as he side-eyes his own coach’s response, and a quiet laugh is shocked out of his throat when Azuma actually shoves Mikhail away with a sharp push to his face as he demands to know who he is. Mikhail takes it in stride, calling Azuma mean, and the two banter back and forth; Haruka watches bemusedly until a soft laugh from Rin draws his gaze back to him. He’s watching the older men, too, eyes soft with affection, and Haruka smiles just a bit again. He’s glad that Rin found a coach suited to him, too.

_The eighty-sixth All-Japan Invitational…_

The overhead announcement briefly fades to a background buzz beneath the sudden anticipation that jolts through his body. It’s time. It’s finally time, and Haruka swallows discreetly against the nerves, the slight lump in his throat from the significance of this singular moment. Rin senses it, too; Haruka sees it in his expression, hears it in his voice when he quietly says it’s time to go. 

“Ah,” he murmurs as he falls into step beside Rin, their coaches behind them, and as they step into the natatorium, Haruka smiles a bit again, lightly nudges Rin’s arm with his elbow. “Makoto,” he mutters, section D being just to the right, directly in front of them. “Nagisa and Rei.”

“And Kisumi!” Rin exclaims. Haruka nods; he forgets sometimes that Rin’s known Kisumi longer than he and Makoto have. “Sousuke’s there, too; he’s with Samezuka, right behind them. Haru.” Rin’s voice is thick when he stops, and he doesn’t continue; Haruka knows why, but he can’t poke fun at Rin’s tears. Not this time. He gets it. Everyone that they’ve come to know and love through the water is there to witness and support them as they take this momentous step toward their dream through the very thing that had brought them all together in the first place. It’s _huge._

“I know, Rin,” he says quietly after lightly clearing his throat. “Me too.”

Haruka finds his teammates in the second tier of the section of bleachers a few sections to their left; Rin doesn’t have a team to sit with, so he and Mikhail follow Haruka and Azuma and join them few rows behind the Hidaka group. Once the formalities are out of the way, the races begin; before too long, Ikuya and Natsuya are taking the blocks for their IM.

“This should be good.”

Haruka looks at Rin in surprise when he says the same thing at nearly the same time; Rin gives him a curious look in return, and then grins. “Ah, that’s right! With everything else going on, I never got to tell you!” he starts, but then the gun goes off and both of them turn full focus to the race.

Haruka is briefly taken back to junior high and swimming against Natsuya himself as the two brothers cut through the water. It’s the first time he’s seen Natsuya swim since that year, and he lightly moistens his lips. For as good as Ikuya is, he has his work cut out for him. Natsuya’s only gotten better. “They’re even,” he mutters tautly to Rin as Ikuya and Natsuya flip from breast into crawl, and he can’t even breathe or blink as he watches them race that final lap. It’s too, too close, and Haruka truly can’t tell who’s actually won until he glances up at the scores.

It’s Ikuya. By hundredths of a second, but it’s Ikuya who takes the race, and Haruka _smiles_ as he lets himself breathe again. Not that he’d wanted Natsuya to lose, per se, but he knows what this signifies to them both, and he hopes, _oh_ he hopes, that Ikuya can finally, finally put the last of his insecurities regarding his strength and ability to rest.

“You okay?”

Haruka blinks, looks over at Rin, realizes just how tensely he’s been holding himself, how much his relief over Ikuya’s win must be showing. He nods, then shifts his gaze back to the brothers, his heart warming further as he watches them embrace.

“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he.” Haruka’s surprised into looking back at Rin, and Rin smiles. “I met Natsuya-san in Sydney,” he explains. “He told me. About Ikuya. About your relay in seventh grade. How you quit without reason that winter.”

“Rin,” Haruka starts, because he doesn’t like how Rin’s tone had changed for that last sentence. He can tell right where Rin’s head is at. They’ve never talked about what had happened that year, between them and after Rin had run off. He doesn’t want to, either. Not here and now, especially. But,

“Haru, I’m sorry. God, I was just so messed up, so afraid! All that time away, and—” Rin cuts off, shakes his head. “Well, you know the story. Anyway, I’m sorry. For what it did to you, and for what it cost you.”

“It didn’t. Cost me anything,” Haruka says when Rin looks at him in question. “Not in the end,” he adds quickly when Rin parts his lips to argue, because okay, it actually _had;_ it had cost him a lot _._ But he’s past it and _really_ doesn’t want to revisit it. “I’m swimming again, right? Better than ever. And Ikuya and me, we’re good now, too. So just… leave it where it belongs. Please?” Rin gives a single, stiff nod and looks away; after a second or two, Haruka lightly licks his lower lip and then, “I forgive you, Rin,” he murmurs, because god, he _so_ knows how important it can be to hear that, even when the giver doesn’t feel it’s necessary. And it must be the same for Rin, for how his jaw trembles slightly before he catches it, for the soft sniff Haruka hears.

“Thanks, Haru.”

“Their times were good,” Azuma says as the brothers come out of the water, and Haruka and Rin both turn to look at him over their shoulders. “But honestly, with there being heats left, they were too close to the base time to say for sure that they’ve made it.”

“Mm,” Mikhail agrees thoughtfully. “It’s too soon to get too confident.”

Rin and Haruka turn forward again and then glance at each other; Haruka’s brow quirks slightly when he sees the flash of excitement in Rin’s eyes, and then he huffs in amusement. It’s just like Rin to get eager versus anxious and, again, Haruka is grateful to have him at his side while they wait for their turns to take the spotlight.

In the end, Ikuya ends up making the cut, but Natsuya’s bumped out, though just barely.

The 400-meter freestyle qualifiers round out the morning. Haruka watches Mikoshiba and Hoshikawa lose their heat, and he empathizes with the frustration they show at the finish line. He doesn’t know Hoshikawa beyond what Ikuya has shared, but he does Mikoshiba; like the rest of them, he hates to lose, and he’s worked incredibly hard. _He hasn’t had the one-on-one training I have, though,_ Haruka reminds himself when anxiety tries to prick at him again. He just hopes that the extra is enough.

As the next heat moves to the block, a small group of the Hidaka swimmers gets up to slip from the natatorium. They’re the ones who will be swimming in the first heats after the lunch break and Asahi is one of them; Haruka glances at the large clock, calculates his own time to eat and then turns to Rin.

“Rin-kun, let’s go,” Mikhail tells him before Haruka can say anything and Rin stands, glances down at Haru.

“See you after lunch.”

“Ah.” Haruka watches them for a moment, then turns to Azuma. “I’m going to go, too,” he says quietly, and then, once the gun sounds, “I want to talk to Asahi. I’ll meet you at the entrance in time for lunch.”

“You’ll be cutting it close to eating too early,” Azuma hazards, and Haruka nods.

“I know. But it’s important.”

Azuma stares at him a second or to longer, then gives a single nod; Haruka thanks him and slips out to catch up to Asahi. He about passes the group where they’ve settled in one of the wider access halls, but Asahi’s laugh calls him back to it and he can’t help but smile a bit with how Asahi’s lights his face when the redhead sees him.

“Haru!”

“Asahi.” Haru returns the few other greetings that are offered to him as he makes his way to the far side of the small group, and he studies his friend as he slides down the wall to settle beside him. His lips curve up further. It’s good to be with him again. “How are you?”

“Good, good!” His eyes flash. “Ready to kick some ass,” he says with a grin.

Haruka huffs in amusement. “You never change.”

“Oi!”

“It’s not a bad thing. I’m glad,” he says more quietly, and heat creeps into his cheeks when Asahi says softly,

“Yeah, I’ve missed you, too. Busy as we’ve been, it’s not been the same without you.” He pops a handful of grapes into his mouth. “How’d exams go, doing ‘em remote?” he still manages to articulate around them, and Haruka reminds himself wryly that this is part of Asahi too.

“Fine. Better,” he says after a second’s thought. “Quieter.” Asahi grins, and Haruka rolls his eyes as he reads the _so like Haru_ in it. “Be quiet.” Asahi just snickers and shoves more grapes into his mouth and Haruka smiles again. He’s missed Makoto most of all, of course, but he realizes that he’s missed Asahi even more than he’d initially thought. “I’m glad they’re done though. Glad to be going home for a bit after this.”

“Me, too,” Asahi says fervently. “And hopefully as the newest members of Team Japan!”

“Ah.”

They talk for a little more and then the announcement officially breaking the tournament for lunch comes; Haruka glances up at the clock and then stands. “Azuma,” is all he says, and Asahi nods. “Asahi.” The redhead looks up at him, and Haruka smiles. “Kick some ass,” he tells his friend and, smile widening at Asahi’s delighted laugh, he heads off to meet his coach. 

Haruka hopes they both will.

Azuma gives Haruka another look when Haruka joins him, but he doesn’t volunteer anything to explain it, and Haruka doesn’t ask. Azuma looks at him oddly all the time; he’s just not seen this one before. But Haruka doesn’t think much of it, really. If Azuma wanted him to know something, he wouldn’t hold back.

The food on offer is straight from _Human Nutrition 101,_ as always. Haruka has a detached appreciation for what the food really is; fuel to serve his body. He doesn’t savor it like he would his few favorites, but doesn’t rush it, either, as they’ve been lectured more than once on those adverse effects. It’s rather offputting, really, he thinks as he pops his last carrot stick into his mouth, how scripted almost everything about competitive swimming is compared to when he can just swim free, but it’s part of the path he’s chosen, so.

Once he’s finished, he glances up at the clock. Part of his mind considers reaching for his phone, trying to find Makoto and the others. But the venue is huge, and packed, and Azuma’s ordering him up and to the warmup pool anyway, so he swallows a sigh and does as he’s told. At least _this_ he can savor, he thinks as he dives in after rinsing off, and he closes his eyes and looses a sigh of a different sort as the water greets him and embraces him. _Soon,_ they seem to say to each other. They’ll meet again soon and work through each other to take this race that’s so important. They’ll take tomorrow’s, too, and _then_ they can be together again as meant to be, for the pure enjoyment of it—at least until after Obon and training resumes again.

Azuma orders him out of the water far too soon for his liking, then puts him through his stretching regime before telling him to dress and meet him back in the natatorium. Rin’s there with Mikhail again by the time Haruka rejoins him and the fifty-meter free qualifiers have already started. “How many heats have swum?” he quietly asks Rin after the gun sounds, and he breathes a bit easier when Rin tells him it’s only been three. He hasn’t missed Asahi, then.

“So he _is_ here.” Haruka glances over at Azuma, then follows his line of sight; he sees that Asahi and Tono have come in with the group of swimmers to be on deck, but nobody else stands out to him. “The kid in the Naribusawa jacket,” Azuma says as if sensing his question. “Kinjou Kaede.”

Haruka’s eyes widen as he draws in a subtle breath. “That’s—”

“The guy closest to Wahlander in times,” Rin finishes lowly for him as Asahi’s heat takes their blocks, and then they both watch in disbelief as Kaede strips the other swimmers to set a new tournament record. For a _qualifier._ “Jesus,” Rin mutters as they watch him come out of the water with an almost maniacal grin, and Haruka nods, lightly licks his lower lip.

“Ah.” That nervous anticipation flickers through Haruka’s stomach. He’s known about Kaede, of course, just as he had Wahlander. But it’s something else entirely now that he’s seen him in the water; has seen that distinctly off-putting sneer that speaks of a total lack of care about anything else other than his win. Haruka can tell, even without having swum with Kaede, that Kaede forces the water rather than works with it; knows that it will be a different sensation altogether to be in the pool with him than it had been with Wahlander. The water _likes_ Wahlander, and Haruka can’t imagining much liking Kaede, which is an incredibly unfair judgment to make based on his expression alone, but.

“Scared?” Haruka’s gaze is jerked back to Azuma with his drawl.

“No,” he says, without thought, because he isn’t. Haruka isn’t frightened by much, and there’s a distinct difference between fear and anticipation, nervous or otherwise.

Azuma gives him another one of those indecipherable looks, and then he glances down at Kaede again as he climbs out of the pool. “His level of strength; you can’t get there without giving things up to get it,” he muses casually, but there’s something beneath it that pricks at Haruka, makes that anticipation flicker through his gut again. “It takes a different mindset altogether to survive in the competitive world. The only ones who make it are those who don’t waver from their singular path, regardless as to what it costs them. Even if the price is someone they care about.”

Haruka’s lips part slightly from how those words make his breath catch, and he looks away from Azuma. His heart hurts when he sees the dejected slump to Asahi’s shoulders as he follows Kaede off the deck. Kaede. What had he given up to obtain his power, Haruka wonders, and did he think it was worth it? _Someone they care about,_ Azuma had said, and Haruka suddenly realizes how specific that is, out of anything Azuma could have used as an example. His mouth uncomfortably dry, he tries to swallow, but it’s hard and, as he licks his lips to try and moisten them, he instinctively seeks out Makoto across the pool. _Someone they care about._ Had that been the price that Kae—

“—ru. Haru.” Haruka starts slightly when he feels Rin’s hand on his arm, turns to look at him. Rin’s brow dips sharply. “You alright?”

He’s not, but he nods anyway, because how can he tell Rin? It’s just speculation, really, and besides, he and Rin, they’re the same when it comes to their bonds, to the people who hold their hearts. And Rin’s—

“Rin-kun, let’s go.”

– Rin’s event is next. Haru can’t, _won’t_ do that to him, plant that awful seed like Azuma had done to him.

“Haru.”

“It’s fine.” He forces himself to hold Rin’s gaze, knows that Rin can tell that it’s _not_ , but then Mikhail calls his name again and with a soft huff, Rin stands. “Rin. Do well,” he says when his friend looks back at him, and Rin nods, winks.

“You know it.” Then he’s gone.

Azuma says nothing, and a flicker of anger makes itself felt beneath the anxiety that Haruka can’t rid himself of. Azuma says nothing because he’s made his point, Haruka thinks, and the looks he’s been getting all day suddenly make sense. But why, what could have _possibly_ made Azuma feel that mere heats before he’s scheduled to swim was the best time to do so?

In desperation, Haruka seeks out Makoto again, and his hand comes up to lightly grab at his shirt just over his heart. He knows the expectations, what’s required to walk this path. He’s aware of the sacrifices. His freedom in the water. The stupid diet regime. The even stupider taper. The camps and the trainings. The time away from home, from _Makoto._ And he’s resigned himself to them, he truly has. They both have, him and Makoto, together, because they believe in their dreams, but, more importantly, they believe in _them_. They know that they’ll still have each other, their love, their life together, on the other side when Haruka is done with it all. But for as precious as his dream is to him, for as much as he nearly lost to find it, does Azuma really expect him to give up _more_? To give up _Makoto?_ Haruka’s stomach actually twists with the thought. He can’t do it. He _won’t._ He won’t sacrifice a single one of his bonds, Makoto _least_ of all. And if that means he has to find a different dream to chase, well. So be it.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru finds some unexpected inspiration, tries his best to let go, and Makoto decides it’s time for a distraction

Haruka’s thoughts continue to chase through his head as the 100-meter butterfly qualifiers start. He goes from being angry, to confused as hell, and then back again, and it’s draining. He desperately needs a focal point, an anchor in the mental storm, but he has none, because the one he usually clings to in times like this just makes the loop start up again. It’s no fault of Makoto’s, of course it isn’t, but the thought of having to give him up in exchange for his dream sickens Haruka, though he knows it isn’t anything he’d ever _remotely_ entertain.

Oddly enough, it’s the sight of Rin walking out to take deck that brings that stability; Rin, who—in a way— _had_ given up everything to chase after his dream. He’d nearly lost himself to the very thing that Azuma had claimed would bring Haruka strength, but he’d found his way back again, _through_ those bonds, and they’re stronger than ever. Once he’d found his way again, Rin _had_ left again, in pursuit of the same dream as Haru, but he hadn’t _left them._ And Haruka knows that, if Rin has found a way to make it work, then he can.

Haruka holds onto that as he watches Rin take his block, clings to it as Rin makes his dive, and then the more clinical part of his mind takes over as he watches Rin’s strokes, sees him pull ahead of several of the swimmers by the time he’s half through his first lap. Rin makes his turn seconds later, picks up speed, and Haruka feels a thrill thrum through him. He can guess how Rin’s competition is feeling, having experienced that burst himself before and, for a moment or two, he’s there in the water with Rin, pushing himself in response to it, feeling Rin push harder in turn. _Tomorrow,_ he thinks. He’ll get to experience it tomorrow, and he’s as excited by that, by the thought of swimming with Rin, as he is by the thought of beating him.

Rin doesn’t take his heat, but he places second, and with a good enough time to qualify. Haruka breathes his name under the cheers, entire body alight with joy and pride, and he actually grins a bit to himself as he watches Rin take a moment to celebrate before pulling himself from the pool. He’s earned it, for as hard as he’s worked and for everything he’s given to get there.

Given, but not given _up_. If Rin can find the balance, so can he.

“Right, then; you’re next.” Azuma stands and, as he turns, he tells Haruka to get ready.

“Right,” Haruka acknowledges to his retreating back and his brow furrows slightly as he stands. It’s such abruptly different behavior than how Azuma had been that morning, and Haruka thinks of his words again, wonders what had happened between then and now to make Azuma so cold and so stuck on making this stupid point. He gets nothing from him on the short walk to the lockers and, as Haruka’s thoughts start to run again as he undresses and rinses off, that anger from before prickles through him. He tries, he _tries,_ to let it go and to forget Azuma’s words, his behavior, but when all the man tells him before they part at the access hall is _remember what we talked about, kid,_ what calm Haruka has managed to find fades beneath his irritation and confusion.

The rote of falling into line and heading onto the pool deck evens Haruka out a little, and the familiar sensation of the cool, smooth material of the block beneath his feet as he takes it gives him something tangible to focus on. Haruka draws a quiet, calming breath and closes his eyes, opening them again and drawing up straight a moment later when his name is announced. Finally, they’re told to take their marks, and he drops into his starting stance. This is it. His moment to shine. To show the world that he’s ready to take it on.

_You can’t get there without giving things up to get it._

The sound of the starting pistol reaches Haruka’s ears as an echo beneath the taunt of Azuma’s words, and as he makes his dive, he knows that he’s behind already. Myriad emotions well through him faster than the water can take them from him, anxiety, embarrassment, fear; anger at himself, at Azuma. He’s fighting his way through the water because he can’t _feel_ it; there’s too much feeling inside of him.

When Haruka goes into his first turn, he makes one last, desperate attempt to clear his mind and soul of it all. As he kicks off, he visualizes pushing all the turmoil away with it and leaving it behind. It works; as his right arm re-enters the water after recovery, there’s nothing _but_ him and the water. There’s the slightest falter as relief rushes through him, but the water takes that from him, too. They’re connected now and Haruka lets go, knowing that, now, _nothing_ can stop him. Thoughts of Kaede and Wahlander flicker through his head with myriad others as, freed from the last of his fetters, he picks up speed, but he pays them no mind. He’s free now, breathing easily, flying effortlessly through the cuts he makes through the water.

But it’s too late.

As soon as Haruka reaches the touchpad at the end of his last lap, he knows. He can feel his loss before he even turns to read the numbers. Yes, he’d freed himself from the weight of his thoughts soon enough to make a decent time, but it’s not a _qualifying_ one, and anger again bubbles through him toward his coach. Regardless as to what Azuma believed, _why_ would he say such a thing right before Haruka had to compete? It isn’t fair to put _all_ of the blame on him; Haruka knows that. He’d been the one to fixate on it, had been the one unable to let it go. But even so, what the hell had Azuma been thinking?

Still panting softly, Haruka does his best to swallow it down. He schools his expression as he lifts his head and pulls himself out of the pool. Azuma’s to his left as he exits toward the locker room, but Haruka doesn’t spare him a glance as he walks by. He can’t. He doesn’t care if it’s disrespectful or rude. He needs more time, doesn’t want to invite any interaction before he’s ready. And he takes his time in the shower, too, simply stands under the water, feeling it again, letting it further soothe his raw nerves, and then once the noise in the locker room fades, he soaps and shampoos and rinses. He might as well. He won’t be back in the pool again until tomorrow.

By the time he’s finished, Haruka feels more like himself; still upset that he’d missed his shot, yes, but it’s done and he can only move forward. What matters now is _not_ letting that anxiety and anger grip him again before tomorrow’s competition and, with that in mind, he joins his team a few rows down from where he’d been sitting with Azuma. He feels bad, a little, leaving Rin there, but Mikhail’s there as well, and Haruka’s just not ready to be near Azuma yet. He knows Rin will ask, especially after their exchange before Rin had left for his heat, but he’ll deal with that when it comes. He’ll be better ready to, at least.

The rest of the afternoon passes, and Hidaka does fairly well, all told. No worse than any other school, and better than most, overall. Haruka can tell that the coach is pleased during their debrief, and Haruka is glad too, though he wishes that he and Asahi both had had better results. Asahi is his usual, resilient self, though, his bright grin back in place already; it makes Haruka smile a bit as it’s turned to him when Coach finally lets them go.

“C’mon, Haru,” he encourages beneath the chatter of the others, “Kisumi said he and Makoto and the rest’ll be at the foot of the steps out fron—”

“Nanase.” Haruka and Asahi both turn when the coach calls out. “A minute, if you please?”

Haruka nods, gives Asahi another in return for the encouraging look, then takes the few steps back to the older man, fingers curling in slightly toward his palms. He has no doubt what this is about, but he’s calmed enough to deal with it, at least. 

“You did good today, Nanase,” he begins, and then he laughs kindly when Haruka can’t hide his surprise. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s a shame that you let yourself get so shaken watching Kaede swim, and you do have to work on that,” he instructs in a bit of a stricter tone, which Haruka can’t argue. Even if the reason why he’d been so shaken had had little to do with Kaede’s swimming, he _had_ let anxiety get the better of him. “You’re beyond talented, Nanase. A true genius in the water, unlike anyone who’s come through Hidaka in years. _You_ just need to believe that.” Coach smiles a bit again. “But I don’t think you’ll have the same issue going forward.”

“Coach?” Haruka’s brow furrows slightly with his curiosity, and the man’s smile widens.

“You’ve beaten Wahlander’s time before, Nanase. Granted, just in practice, but still. And now you’ve seen what his closest contender is capable of. _Official_ time wise, the only one as close to either of them as you is the Matsuoka kid from Australia, and you’ve swam against him your whole life. There’re no more surprises. You know what to expect from them all, and you’ll adapt accordingly. I’ve seen enough of you by now to know that you always do.” The coach lightly clasps his shoulder. “Believe in yourself, Nanase. We do.”

With a single pat, Coach drops his hand, tells Haruka that he’ll see him tomorrow. Haruka watches him leave, turns what he’d said over in his mind. It’s a logical theory, he thinks, and maybe part of it _is_ true; at least he knows what to expect from Kaede now, though he’s not been in the water with him. What sticks out most to Haruka though, is _adapt_ and _believe_. His eyes narrow softly. He’ll do just that. Regardless as to what Azuma thinks or says, he’ll find a way to hold onto both his bonds and his dream. 

Determination renewed, Haruka turns to finally head out, gets about to the doors when Azuma calls out to him. Haruka stops; the lobby is fairly empty now, and he can’t pretend that he hadn’t heard him. But he doesn’t turn, not even when he hears Azuma come to him. “Eat, rest and stay out of the water,” Azuma tells him when he stops, and Haruka nods, and then again when Azuma says he’ll meet him at the main entrance again at eight.

“Nanase.” There’s silence after, and then more, and then finally, Haruka does turn, because it seems it’s the only way that he’ll actually get out of there. “Overall, you didn’t do bad today. Mid-race, you were faster than Wahlander. You just need to keep your head in the game and free of distraction and you’ll get there.” The words are accompanied by another one of those pointed looks and Haruka’s lips turn down slightly; he has to bite his tongue against pointing out that his distraction today was on Azuma’s shoulders.

“Right,” he says evenly, and then he tips his chin and turns back toward the doors.

The humidity hits Haruka as soon as he steps outside, and the city scents are even heavier than usual because of it. It makes him long for Iwatobi, usually, but right now, he only gives it a passing thought. He can see Makoto at the foot of the steps and that’s all that matters.

Nagisa catches sight of him first, and his greeting draws everyone’s attention to him. Haruka can tell, but all he _sees_ is Makoto’s eyes. Haruka knows that Makoto is worried and curious, and that he’s disappointed for Haruka’s sake, because he knows Makoto. But the only thing in Makoto’s gaze in that moment is a joy that’s lighting him from the inside out, joy that _he_ has brought to this good, sweet boy, just by coming into his line of sight, and he thinks again that Azuma is wrong, that he’ll find a way to have both. That _they_ will.

“You did so well today, Haruka-senpai!” Rei praises when he joins the small group, and Haruka quietly thanks him, then shifts his gaze to Nagisa as he shares their plans with Nitori and the others from Samezuka.

“You should come!” Nagisa encourages, and Haruka gives a slight smile, shakes his head. It’s not anything he would have been interested in anyway, and especially not tonight.

“I’m going to pass. Get some air, instead. But thanks.”

Nagisa sounds a little disappointed but mostly okay as he wishes him luck the next day; Rei echoes it and Haruka thanks them both before they take off, Nagisa calling back his goodbyes to everyone as they join the Samezuka crew. Haruka snickers under his breath despite himself. Everyone’s a _chan_ , as usual, save for Kisumi, who ends up _Kissme_ , and his reaction and Tono’s are quite amusing.

As Nagisa and Rei leave, the bus for the Shimo group pulls up; before they really have a chance to do anything more than wish each other good luck tomorrow, one of Ikuya’s teammates calls out for him and Tono.

“I should get going, too,” Asahi says reluctantly, and then he grins at Haru. “See you back here in the morning!”

“And don’t forget, Marron tomorrow night!” Kisumi reminds.

“Right!” Makoto replies with Haruka’s, _ah,_ and then, as they walk off, Makoto turns to face him. “Haru,” he says softly, but there’s so much more that Makoto says through it; _I’m glad you’re home, I love you, are you okay._ Haruka lets it wash over and through him, takes a quiet breath, but before he can do more than that, Rin calls out from behind them. They both turn at once and Rin grins, gives them a wave as Makoto greets him in turn. “Congratulations on your one-hundred meter!” Makoto offers warmly as he stops beside them, and Rin’s grin widens, pride flashing through his eyes.

“Thanks!”

“Mm! I could tell it was a challenge, but you really dug in at the end!”

“I had to!” Rin says with a laugh. “It was tough, and man am I worn out now!”

And Haruka is happy for Rin, and so proud, of _course_ he is, but he can’t help but feel that frustration mount again as he thinks about his own performance.

“The real challenge comes tomorrow, though,” Rin continues, but then he falls silent; after a second, Haruka glances at him, sees the look Rin is giving _him,_ slightly curious but mostly empathetic, concerned, and Haruka’s fingers curl lightly toward his palms.

“Hey, I know!” Makoto’s tone is so bright and sudden that both Haruka and Rin look over at him. “Since we’ve got a bit of time together, let’s go cool down a bit.” He grins, the one that makes his eyes spark with excitement. “I know someplace perfect for us!”

Haruka truly just wants to go home, but he gets Makoto’s reasoning, too. Other than that half hour in the car the week before, he can’t think of when it’s just been the three of them; can’t say for certain when either of them will see Rin again after this weekend. Besides, this way he can just talk to them both at once instead of dealing with Rin over the phone later; Haruka knows that they’re both wondering what had happened in his race. And, all that aside, he couldn’t say no to Makoto anyway, not with how eager he looks to take them wherever this may be. “Sure,” he says with a slight smile, and the way Makoto’s brightens already makes it worth it. Together, they look askance at Rin, who lightly catches his lip between his teeth and glances at his watch.

“Yeah, I can go,” he says a second later, lifting his gaze with a smile. “If it’s not too far, anyway. I’ve got some time.”

“Plans?” Haruka’s brow arches slightly when Rin colors and shrugs in response.

“I told Sousuke I’d meet him in my hotel’s lobby after he put his time in at the pool, is all. What?” he demands, and Haruka quickly schools his expression to its usual from the light smirk he’d allowed.

“Nothing.” 

“It’s not all that far, and you’ll have plenty of time,” Makoto, ever the peacemaker, assures over Rin’s snort of disbelief. He gives Rin a soft smile. “I know Sousuke’s looking forward to spending time with you, too.” The color in Rin’s cheeks deepens as he steps away, mumbling something about a cab, and Makoto chuckles softly, then looks at Haruka.

“What did they do with your bags, Haru-chan?”

Haruka tips his gaze to Makoto’s, and _oh,_ how he’s missed how Makoto looks at him, like there’s nothing in the world _but_ him. “One of the managers ran them to Hidaka. To the locker room. There isn’t anything I’ll need before the end of the tournament,” he assures, anticipating Makoto’s question.

“What about before Obon?” Makoto asks. Haruka’s eyes widen slightly. With everything that had happened today, he’d forgotten. “Haru,” Makoto murmurs and Haruka’s gaze flickers back to his; he feels his face warm slightly at the concern that’s crept into his eyes. 

“The last heats are at two tomorrow,” Haruka reminds as he turns his head away. “We can go between then and Marron.”

“Haru.”

“Ma—”

“Haru! Makoto!” They both look at Rin when Rin cuts in over them; he waves them over to the cab.

Makoto gives a quiet sigh, then puts on one of the smiles that Haruka is likely the only one that knows is fake, outside of its giver. “Coming,” he calls back, and they hurry over and get in, Haruka in between Makoto and Rin.

“Where to?” the driver asks and, like that, the brightness from before lights Makoto’s eyes again. Discreetly taking Haruka’s hand, he gives it a gentle squeeze and leans forward.

“Odaiba Beach Park, please!”


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are shared, the ocean calls, and Haruka gains a bit of insight about his coach

Finally, _finally,_ Makoto’s hand is in his again, and okay, so it was only a week ago that they’d kissed, that those hands had been on his ass, but this; it feels like it’s been _forever_ , and it’s something entirely different knowing that, this time, there isn’t a rush. This time, Haruka doesn’t have to leave. Makoto will be coming home with him and they’ll have the whole night together—once they’re done with Makoto’s spur-of-the-moment adventure—and Haruka’s so enamored by the thought that it actually takes a second or two for him to comprehend the directions Makoto had given.

“Oh, nice!” Rin is saying with a grin when he catches up. Haruka squeezes Makoto’s hand in turn and smiles at him when he looks down.

“Makoto’s right. It _is_ perfect.” Haruka has been to the ocean with Rin, and Makoto of course, but he can’t think of the last time the three of them had been. Probably before Rin had left for Australia the first time.

Makoto beams like he’s been handed everything he’s ever wanted, and the warmth of it makes Haruka flush.

“God, the two of you,” Rin mutters with a soft snicker, but when Haruka turns a glare to him, he sees only affection in Rin’s eyes. He feels his face heat further, but he bites back the _be quiet_ on the tip of his tongue, resists the urge to tease in turn that follows and ask Rin if he’s jealous, because he’d rather keep holding Makoto’s hand than draw the driver’s attention.

The trip isn’t long; maybe twenty minutes. Even after several months in Tokyo, Haruka still thinks that it’s a ridiculous length of time for not even six kilometers, but it is what it is and, as he steps out and catches the scent of the sea, still slightly muted for all the other scents in the air, but there nonetheless, he forgets about the minor irritation. He tries his best to wait patiently but, after ten seconds or so of Makoto and Rin arguing over who will foot the fare, he steps forward and pays the driver. “Come on. Let’s go,” he says as the cab drives away, and he turns and heads toward the boardwalk, the water’s call coming above the soft, affectionate chuckles he hears behind him.

As Haruka nears the sand, Makoto and Rin come up on either side of him. “I’ve not been this close to the ocean since we moved,” Makoto says softly after they watch and listen for a minute or two, and then he turns to look at Haruka and Rin. “Let’s sit for a bit, ne?”

Haruka nods and sits, eyes never leaving the ocean, though they’re constantly in motion, sweeping over the gentle waves, following one into the shore and then watching it recede to join the others. Reach and retreat. Reach and retreat. It reminds him a bit of his stroke, he realizes, and his fingers curl toward his palms as he resists the urge to join it, to remind himself what it’s like to be free with it again.

“Ha—"

“You won’t make it if you’re not willing to make sacrifices.” Haruka speaks as Makoto starts his name, but he doesn’t pause or apologize for it. He needs to get this off his chest, at least; to let them know what had happened earlier. Then he can, _hopefully_ , put it behind him and move forward to success tomorrow. “But I didn’t want to give up more than I already have,” he pushes on to continue. “And then I lost.” His brow furrows slightly as he tries to catch his thoughts as they start to run again, tries to form them into a coherent explanation. “I’ve been thinking about it since the race ended, and…” Haruka purses his lips in frustration, then quietly sighs. “Maybe I’m _not_ cut out for global competition,” he mutters as he casts his gaze toward his hands again. He knows that he has the skill, but if a couple of comments is enough to shake him this badly, well.

Haruka isn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but to hear laughter from both Makoto and Rin is probably the last thing, and his head jerks up and he shifts his gaze between the two. “What’s so funny?” he demands, lips curving downward slightly, and his heart hurts a bit from it, too. He knows he hadn’t been able to articulate as well as he would have wished, but really?

“You usually don’t get so irritated, is all,” Rin says with a bit of a smile. “But I guess that even you can feel pressure sometimes, yeah?”

“We’re all where we are because of your swimming, Haru,” Makoto says, so warmly that Haruka instantly forgives him for the laugh. It’s not Makoto’s fault, after all, that he can’t communicate clearly when his emotions are involved. “Maybe your answer whether or not you are meant to follow this path lies in the fact that you’re questioning it,” he continues, and Haruka’s brow furrows. He isn’t following that at all.

“What do you mean?” Because he’s curious now, even though he knows he has to do a better job explaining what _he’d_ been getting at in the first place.

“You know, Haru,” Rin speaks up before Makoto has a chance to answer, “The pressure’s gotten to me before, too. Enough to where, a couple of times, I’ve stopped believing in myself.” He gives a soft chuckle. “You know all about that now though. I guess what I mean is that, after all of our struggles and coming up against each other, we’ve finally made it, you and me. And we know now that there’s more than one road to a dream. So let’s just take tomorrow head on and give it all we’ve got, ne?”

“Rin’s right.” Haruka shifts a curious look back to Makoto; he sees a flicker of nervousness, but then it’s replaced by Makoto’s warm, gentle smile. “After having worked with the kids like I have for a while, I’ve decided I want to be a trainer instead,” he shares. “I see them struggling and fighting, too, as they chase their dreams, and it’s made me realize that I want to do more than just teach. And I’ve been even more excited about my own dream than ever!” He holds Haruka’s eyes and there’s nothing there but confidence and eagerness now. “I’m going to study and train so that I can support swimmers that compete on the global level,” he continues. “And, as a trainer, I’ll _still_ be able to teach kids how much fun swimming is!”

“Makoto, that’s great!” Rin declares with a joyous laugh, and Makoto’s smile brightens.

“I want to support Haru and Rin, too, if I can,” he says, and Haruka can tell that this, this point right here, is the crux of Makoto’s newest dream. “I can’t think of anything better than the three of us seeing that same sight together again.”

Rin laughs again, teases Makoto about trying to sound cool, but Haruka is warmed through by Makoto’s words, not just what he says, but what he reads between them. By sharing his new dream, Makoto has told him that _he’s_ felt the struggle and pressure, too; has found himself questioning his plans and his decisions. And, perhaps most importantly, Makoto has shared that he’s found reconciliation, a way to proceed forward without feeling like he’s given anything up. So maybe Haruka _had_ managed to convey that fear through his awkward words after all, he thinks. At least, to Makoto.

Haruka feels his own determination renewed because of it. He’s still confused as hell as to what had flipped Azuma’s switch, and he _really_ wants to try again to explain better to Makoto and Rin what had happened, not only because he wants them to know, but to see if he’s, maybe, overreacting or misunderstanding that as well. But, even now, he can’t seem to grab onto the words, and it’s frustrating. He looks out at the water, the water calls to him, and the next thing Haruka knows, he’s on his feet, fists clenched, expelling all that frustration into the air in a wordless shout. He’s vaguely aware of the shocked expressions on either side of him, more aware of the burning heat in his cheeks as his mind catches up with his actions, but he’s there now, has already made a spectacle of himself, so, “I’m going to take on the world!” he declares at the top of his lungs and then he sprints across the sand to the water and dives beneath it as soon as it’s deep enough, lets its coolness soothe his embarrassment as well as his mind and soul.

When Haruka surfaces, he sees Makoto and Rin splashing toward him, sees their grins, hears their laughter mingle with the sound of the waves, and, in that moment, he feels as light as the reflection of the setting sun bouncing off of the water. They flank him again as they had on the shore, and Haruka feels good there, supported on both sides; Makoto to his left, closest to his heart, and Rin to his right.

“Azuma told me something after we watched Kaede swim,” Haruka says after several minutes of just floating, and the words come so much easier now that he’s in the water, now that he has his balance. “He said that people like Kaede don’t gain their strength without giving things up to get it.” His brow furrows softly, but more out of thought than irritation; that’s pretty much bled out of him, carried away on the air of his shout, the jagged edges left by it soothed by the water. “He told me that I’d have to think differently if I wanted to make it to the global level. He said…” Haruka fades, draws his lips in slightly as a niggling of that former anxiety flickers through him, but then he feels Makoto’s fingers brush along his beneath the water, and he calms, takes a quiet breath as their sets intertwine. “He told me I wouldn’t make it if I wasn’t willing to give up everything to see it, even someone I care about.”

He feels the shock jolt through Makoto in the way Makoto’s fingers tighten through his own, and he turns his head, runs his thumb soothingly back and forth over Makoto’s hand skin until Makoto looks at him. _I won’t,_ he says through their locked gazes, _I won’t, ever,_ and Makoto’s expression softens to one of gentle reassurance so quickly that Haruka knows Makoto hadn’t ever thought it in the first place, that his response had been solely a reaction to Azuma having said such a thing.

“No wonder you were so shaken, Haru-chan,” Makoto says softly. “Anyone who knows you knows that your bonds mean more to you than the water, even. What a horrible thing for a coach to say,” he says in a harder tone, one that makes Haruka gently squeeze his hand to assure him that he’s okay. “And why on earth would he say it then, knowing you’d be getting in the water so soon after?”

“I don’t know,” Haruka admits quietly. “That’s been bothering me almost as much as what he actually said. But Makoto.” He waits until Makoto’s looking at him again. “I’m good now. I’m past it.”

“That doesn’t excuse his timing or how it cost you your race,” Makoto gives back, and Haruka loves him for how indignant he is, as much from a professional standpoint as he is on Haruka’s behalf.

“He lost someone.”

Haruka turns sharply toward Rin, sees thoughtfulness and sorrow in his expression, and he shifts to stand in the water. Makoto does, too, and then Rin stands as well, his brows dipped inward slightly.

“I don’t know the full story, just what Mikhail told me,” he continues as he lifts his head to look at the two of them. “But someone important to Azuma ended up in the hospital just before Azuma’s last All-Japan. Azuma knew and chose to swim anyway. Yeah, I know,” Rin says with a very small smile when both Haruka and Makoto draw in sharp breaths. “I couldn’t believe it, either. But anyway, he swam, then went right over to the hospital, but it was too late. Azuma’s friend had died.” He licks his lips slightly and Haruka’s stomach knots; he knows what’s coming next. “He gave up his chance to say goodbye to swim a heat he ended up losing.” Rin hold Haruka’s gaze. “It doesn’t excuse the shit timing. I don’t get that at all. But it does explain where he’s coming from a little bit.”

“Ah.” Haruka thinks about Azuma, how he’d been coaching internationally; wonders if this is the first All Japan he’d been to since his loss. It would explain… well, it would explain a lot, actually.

“I feel sorry for him, though.” Haruka glances at Makoto, brows arched; he thinks it’s a given that they all do. Makoto colors a bit, lightly waves his hands in front of himself. “Not just for that, though that’s horrible enough. Poor Azuma-san.”

“What is it then?” Haruka asks curiously, and Makoto gives a small, sad smile.

“I can’t imagine anything being more important than the people who hold my heart,” he says simply. “And I know it’s the same for both of you, even though the three of us love the water and swimming very much. Even though, for you and Rin, competing on the global stage is your dream. It makes me sad to think that Azuma-san obviously has never had a bond as strong and as special as ours. And it makes me sad to think that, even after everything he lost, he still doesn’t see how important those bonds are. If he did, he never would have suggested to Haru that he has to choose one or the other.”

“I can’t imagine it, either,” Rin says softly, “And I was near there. God, I’m so glad that you never gave up on me, shitty as I treated you all. Haru. Makoto.” He stops, clears his throat, then looks away again.

“Rin.” Makoto steps forward, places a hand on his shoulder. “We’d never give up on you, Rin-Rin,” he says, and Haruka snorts and then stifles a snicker behind his hand as Rin, wide-eyed and jaw dropped, turns to look at Makoto. Makoto; Makoto just laughs, then pulls Rin into a hug. “We love you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rin mutters into Makoto’s shoulder, “Now get off me.” He puts on a show of pushing away, even as he slips an arm up to briefly return the embrace. “Ass,” he says petulantly when Makoto releases him. “God, I swear, Haru’s rubbing off on you.” The light changes in Rin’s eyes and the corners of his mouth twitch up; Haruka’s brow furrows slightly and then his jaw drops and color rushes to his cheeks.

“Shut. _Up!”_ he hisses at Rin, and Rin drops his head back and laughs; Makoto looks between the two of them confusedly.

“What?”

Rin grips his stomach with his arms and drops forward with his laughter and Haruka gives Makoto a disbelieving look and then slowly shakes his head.

“What?!?”

“Oh, c’mon, Ma—”

“Rin, what time were you meeting Sousuke again?” Haruka asks, deliberately cutting Rin off, and doing his best to ignore the part of him that is most decidedly scintillated by how innocent Makoto still is despite the things that they’ve done.

He doesn’t want Rin to tarnish that. That’s Haruka’s alone, thank you very much.

Haruka blinks as the thought comes and goes, but then Rin’s flailing about the time and running toward the beach, and Makoto’s calling his name and holding out his hand; Haruka lets the thought go to twine his fingers with Makoto’s again. Even as he looks forward, to going home, to the night with Makoto, Haruka can’t help but cast a glance back toward the ocean as they step from the surf to the sand. Makoto squeezes his hand gently. “We’ll come back.”

“I’d like that.” Haruka squeezes Makoto’s hand in turn. “Thank you, Makoto.” He leans against Makoto’s arm a bit, feels warmth creep into his cheeks when Makoto chances a light kiss to the top of his head. He thinks about Azuma, about everything he’d said, about what Rin had shared, and he tightens his hold through Makoto’s fingers again. He hopes with every fiber of his being that he’s never faced with that same situation, but Makoto had been right. There wouldn’t even _be_ a choice. Because seeing his dream to fruition would be meaningless without Makoto there to share it with him.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future is discussed, Haruka is home at last, and Makoto helps him finally, truly let go

The three of them find a rest house around the curve of the beach to change in. There isn’t any privacy, just a row of urinals and another of sinks; Haruka glances at Makoto, who is already busying himself with opening his backpack. “Oho,” Rin drawls gleefully when he sees the spare clothing that Makoto had brought for staying at Haruka’s. Makoto colors and glances away, and Haruka’s lips press.

“Oi, move over some,” Haruka orders to Rin before Rin can say anything more, and he slips between the two of them. Rin huffs, but does, and Haruka drops his duffel onto one of the sinks, then pulls out his towel and hands it to Makoto while Rin’s got his shirt over his head.

“Thank you, Haru,” Makoto murmurs, and Haruka nods then starts to undress as well, making a point of keeping as much of Makoto as he can shielded as he does so. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Rin’s eyes to not wander, but his mouth is a different story. Haruka has _never_ trusted that when it comes to discretion, and especially not after his comment on the beach. That said, it doesn’t seem to be an issue anyway for as harried as Rin is about getting done and getting to Sousuke. 

The three of them finish at about the same time, then wring out their wet things as best they can. “Give,” Haruka says, holding his hand out to Rin. “I’ll take care of them tonight and bring them for you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Haru.”

“Ah.” He pulls his bathroom kit from his duffel and hands that to Makoto in exchange for _his_ wet things, and then the three of them pack up, leave, and make their way back up to the street.

Rin hails a cab as soon as he’s able and, as one slows, he flashes Haruka a grin. “Haru! Let’s win tomorrow, yeah?”

“ _I’ll_ win,” Haruka replies with a deliberate deadpan, “But you can have second if you want it.”

“Haru,” Makoto drawls out in reproach as Rin snorts, but the cab stops and Rin snaps his jaw shut and just shakes his head as he opens the door to get in.

“Rin.” Rin pauses, glances over. “We’ll take it,” Haruka says, and like that, Rin’s grinning again.

“Ah!”

The bus stop isn’t but a handful of meters to the right and, as the cab pulls away, Makoto nudges Haruka. One’s coming, and they hurry over to get into the queue. They make it in time, but just barely, and Haruka doesn’t think that they could squeeze another body onto it if they tried. The entire trip back to his neighborhood is like that, but it’s to be expected on a Saturday night. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though, especially after the day Haruka’s had. The heat, the scents, the constant noise, the press of bodies, it all just drains him further, and he can’t help the sigh of relief he gives as he and Makoto finally step off of the last bus.

“Almost there, Haru-chan,” Makoto murmurs as they head into the park to cut across it, and Haruka hums, shifts just a little closer to Makoto. He wants to take his hand, wants Makoto’s arm around him even more, but the sun’s down enough to where the evening is cooling, and the park is busy with families and kids.

“Haru, I’m sorry.”

Haruka blinks, eyes shooting up to Makoto’s in surprise. “For what?” He truly has no clue.

“That you found out about my change of plans like that.” Makoto slips his hands into his pockets, idly kicks at a pebble that had found its way onto the walk. “I mean, I would have told Rin eventually, but I wanted to tell Haru first, of course,” he continues, and Haruka’s mind briefly travels back to that moment on the beach in Australia, to the first time anyone—outside of Makoto’s family—had known what had been going on with Makoto before him. “But you seemed so uncertain,” Makoto continues, pulling him back to the moment. “So worried about your own dream. I just—I _had_ to. Because I meant it, Haru. None of us would be here now if it wasn’t for your swimming, if it wasn’t for you. I mean, who knows _where_ I’d be right now if you hadn’t agreed to swim with me back when we were kids—”

“With me,” Haruka interjects without pause, though it’s clear that Makoto isn’t done speaking. He gets what Makoto means, but he also truly believes that.

Makoto breathes his name, which turns Haruka’s cheeks pink, and then he gives an equally as soft, “Mm. I think so, too,” he continues as they reach the far end of the park and turn toward Haruka’s building. “I believe with all I have that I would have ended up with Haru no matter what,” he murmurs, and Haruka doesn’t have to look at him to see the love in Makoto’s eyes, it’s so clear in his gentle tone.

“And this change in your path?” Haruka asks. “You’re sure it’s what you want?” Because, as much as the surprisingly romantic, and not-so-surprisingly possessive, pieces of Haruka would love for Makoto’s world to be all about him, it _can’t_ be. Haruka won’t be an Olympian forever, so Makoto needs to be sure that this is something that can sustain him, can keep him happy, even after.

“I’m certain.” Makoto’s voice, his eyes, are steady. “You and Rin are a piece of it,” he admits, instinctively knowing where Haruka’s thoughts are. “You’re both working so desperately, Haru-chan; I want to help how I can. And teaching is a noble profession, but I’ve missed the chase a bit, too. Ahh!” Makoto quickly silences Haruka and he pouts and turns away, because of course Makoto knows what he was going to demand: _you should have kept swimming!_ “We both know that, even if I’d accepted one of those offers, I’m not in your league, or Rin’s. Even Ikuya’s back is better than mine and I’ve been swimming it most of my life. This way… This way, as a trainer, I can still be a part of it.”

_I can still be by your side,_ Haruka hears, though Makoto doesn’t voice it.

“So, I’ll be a trainer for a while,” Makoto continues, “And when you’ve scooped all the medals you can and are ready to swim for Haru again, I can teach _then_. And I’ll use your stories and my experience to help the next group of medalists along.” Makoto finishes as they reach the steps, and Haruka can’t help but meet Makoto’s smile with a rare one of his own, because he can tell that Makoto is as excited about this new dream as he is about the potential of being at Haruka’s side in a literal sense while Haruka reaches for his own.

“I’m glad for you, Makoto,” Haruka says, pausing on the stairs so that Makoto can see the truth, the pride, in his eyes. “You would be amazing no matter what, but I’m glad you found a way to your dream that makes you even happier.”

“Mmm. Thank you, Haru.” Makoto lightly touches his hand where it rests on the railing. “You’ll make your dream happen, too, without giving a single thing up you don’t want to. You’ll see. There’s nothing my Haru-chan can’t do.”

And Makoto’s faith, his confidence, is so unwavering, just as it’s _always_ been, that Haruka feels a bit of a fool for ever having let Azuma make him doubt in the first place.

“Ah.” They hold gazes for another second or two and then Makoto drops his hand, fingers lightly skating over the back of Haruka’s as he does so. They start back up the stairs, just a little quicker than before, and as Haruka digs for his keys outside his door, he’s reminded of just over a week ago, how cute Makoto had been, fumbling for his set in his eagerness. How hot their kiss had been after.

“Here, Haru,” Makoto murmurs and his arm slips forward, lightly brushing Haruka’s side, as Makoto slips his key into the lock and turns it. Haruka opens the door then grabs Makoto’s hand and tugs him into the genkan. He doesn’t worry that someone might be watching; Makoto never would have made that move if he hadn’t checked first. “Okaeri, Haru-chan,” Makoto says softly after he turns from shutting it, and Haruka drops his bag, steps forward, lets Makoto’s arms come around him.

“Tadaima,” he murmurs in return once he’s there, finally _truly_ home, and Makoto’s eyes go even softer before he tips his head down to kiss him. Haruka parts his lips, lets Makoto lick into his mouth, and he can’t stop the low sound he gives. He slides his hands up Makoto’s chest to his shoulders, then further up to cup his handsome face, thumbs caressing Makoto’s cheekbones as Makoto’s arms draw him flush against him. Makoto’s tongue strokes slowly over his and then stills and Haruka takes the kiss, reacquainting himself with every bit of Makoto’s mouth in turn, relishing the feeling of Makoto’s hand, strong, gentle, capable, slipping up his spine to cup the back of his head like he’s some precious thing. He’s missed this so much, _loves him **so much**_ , that his heart aches from how full it is, and when they finally part, he steps in even closer, rests his head in the curve of Makoto’s shoulder and neck, eyes falling closed when he feels Makoto’s nose, and then lips, in his hair before he rests his head against Haruka’s.

“You should get in the shower, Haru-chan. I can taste the salt on you,” he murmurs, even as his arms tighten further, and warmth gently floods through Haruka at how reluctant Makoto is to let him go.

“You should come, too,” Haruka mumbles into the crook of Makoto’s neck, because he happens to feel the same, and Makoto needs to shower, too, so it’s a logical solution. Which means it’s foolish how his face warms and his heart wants to race at the thought. Especially since they’ve seen, have held, each other naked; have had their mouths and hands on all sorts of places on each other. But sharing a private shower speaks of an even deeper intimacy to Haruka, and his hands lightly curl against Makoto’s shirt for how badly he suddenly wants it, the chance to connect with Makoto like that after having been gone for so long.

“Haru.” Makoto lifts his head, so Haruka does, too; Makoto’s cheeks are flushed, but there’s only the slightest bit of shyness in his eyes as he dips his head to rest their foreheads together. “Mm,” he murmurs, then he brushes a kiss over Haruka’s lips. “Let me order dinner in first. You need to have _something_ , and it’ll be bordering too late as it is by the time it gets here, with it being Saturday night.

Haruka would normally argue for making a run to the store and cooking himself, but he knows that Makoto is right; he still has to swim tomorrow, and it really would make things too late. He nods and Makoto smiles, cups his cheek as he lightly kisses him again. “Go on then. I’ll be right in,” he says, and he steps back to shrug off his backpack; Haruka toes off his shoes and then goes to grab their clothes and a couple towels. He doesn’t have to tell Makoto what he wants; he knows Haruka’s favorites and what he’s allowed to have while competing. 

Haruka’s just finished undressing after starting the spray to warm when Makoto slips in. He’s already down to his underwear and Haruka struggles with not staring. He doesn’t want to make Makoto uncomfortable, but he just looks so _good_ , and Haruka has no clue how he’d gone for so many years without noticing.

…It’s probably good that he hadn’t, or he has no idea how he would have survived swimming with him the last two years of high school without embarrassing himself on a regular basis.

“Haru’s body has changed.” Haruka’s gaze jumps up and he can tell from the flush in Makoto’s cheeks that he hadn’t been the only one staring. “You’ve put on more muscle,” he explains as the color deepens, and Haruka nods.

“Ah. There was a lot of land training,” he says with a slight wrinkle to his nose that makes Makoto laugh, ‘And Azuma’s had me working extra in the pool, too.”

Makoto nods, gaze roving over Haruka’s body again as he finishes undressing; Haruka feels himself warm beneath it, and Makoto must notice, because his gaze jumps back to Haruka’s. “Haru is still so beautiful,” he says softly by way of explanation, and that gentle warmth flares to a searing heat in Haruka’s cheeks.

“And Makoto is still so embarrassing,” he declares as he turns away to step under the shower. Makoto laughs, and Haruka can’t help the smile he shows to the wall. He’s missed that, too. He’s missed _everything_ about him.

Makoto’s arms come around him then from behind and Haruka’s eyes slip closed when Makoto’s lips press against his hair again. Hands coming up, he rests them over Makoto’s, then leans back into him, head resting on his shoulder; Makoto nuzzles his temple, then kisses above his ear, then his jaw. Haruka turns his head slightly to try and capture Makoto’s mouth and Makoto lets him, hands slipping down to Haruka’s waist so that he can turn him and then pull him close again.

Haruka brings his arms up around Makoto’s neck, shivering at the rush of warmth that runs through him that has nothing to do with the water and everything with feeling Makoto’s naked body flush to his. Makoto’s hands run from his shoulders to his waist and then back again and Haruka breaks the kiss long enough to give a light suck to Makoto’s lower lip before licking into his mouth again. There isn’t any space between them but he _still_ feels he’s not close enough, knows Makoto feels the same for the soft sounds he makes, for the way his hands just can’t stay still.

Eventually, one comes to rest at the small of Haruka’s back, just over his ass, and Haruka pulls away slightly when he feels the other leave him. Makoto’s reaching for the shampoo, breaths heavy, cheeks flushed, and Haruka nuzzles his jaw, closes his eyes when Makoto’s head comes to rest against his. “Makoto?” he murmurs when he just stands there instead of stepping back.

“”m a bad boyfriend, Haru-chan,” Makoto mumbles as he nuzzles his nose against Haruka’s temple, and it shocks Haruka into jerking back a bit as he brings his head up in surprise.

“Makoto, what on earth…”

Makoto smiles, embarrassment edging the want in his eyes as he finally opens the bottle and pours some of the shampoo into his hand. “All can think about is being with you,” he confesses before kissing his nose as he starts to lather Haruka’s hair. “Relearning the parts of your body I’ve had, learning the rest that I haven’t.”

That heat floods through Haruka again and he grips at Makoto’s hips to steady himself between Makoto’s confession and the feel of those hands tending to him. “Why does that make you bad?” he asks, having to pause and swallow when he can’t make his voice work right the first time. 

“You’re mid competition,” Makoto reminds, “And it’s been a long day in general, between your early travel and everything else. You need to eat and then rest for tomorrow. You _don’t_ need me being all… well, _greedy,_ ” he decides on, that pretty pink deepening. “I want to take my time,” he admits lowly as he smooths his fingers down behind either of Haruka’s ears, which makes him want to _melt,_ though he isn’t sure if it’s what Makoto has said or from the sensation. Probably both.

But.

Makoto is right, so Haruka nods; returns the kiss Makoto brushes over his lips as Makoto tips his head back to rinse him. The slight shift in positions pushes Makoto’s erection against his thigh and Haruka swallows again, fingers lightly curling at the recall of how it had felt to have him in his hand, to have Makoto’s taste on his tongue. He feels himself get harder and he knows that there’s _no way_ he’s going to talk himself down, competition or not; slitting his eyes open once Makoto finishes, he shifts and slips his hand between them to bring their dicks together. Makoto’s breath catches, his fingers stilling in Haruka’s hair, and Haruka’s breath stutters, too, as he lightly strokes up their lengths.

“This much is fine, though,” Haruka says as he looks up; Makoto mutters his name, part in warning, part in want, and Haruka brushes a kiss over his lips. “I’ll swim better,” he shares; Makoto breathes a laugh and Haruka shrugs, cheeks warm. “I will. I did it before. At camp. I had to. It was too hard without Makoto.”

“Haru.” Haruka glances up with the murmur, and Makoto takes his mouth, kisses him deep as he pushes his hips up; Haruka can’t stop his groan at the sensation of Makoto’s cock sliding against his. “I had to, too,” Makoto murmurs against his lips when they part. “I missed you so much; couldn’t stop thinking about you, that last night in your bed, tasting you.” His hand joins Haruka’s, wrapping around it; Haruka can feel the press of Makoto’s nails at the small of his back and he shudders, presses closer. “Haru,” Makoto murmurs between their frantic kisses as they squeeze and stroke and slide together, “God… Haru… Haru-chan…” 

“Makoto,” Haruka breathes against his mouth; Makoto shivers, gives a soft sound akin to a growl as Haruka lightly sucks at his lower lip. “Makoto, _please,”_ he pleads, though he doesn’t know what for, and he grips Makoto’s shoulder, vaguely aware of his nails digging in as he tries to bring them closer still, even though he knows that it just isn’t possible. But then Makoto’s hand slips from between them and he takes Haruka’s waist, _picking him up_ , so he can do just that, and _god_ , Haruka about comes right then even as it forces him to let them go.

The wall is cool when Makoto backs him against it and the stark contrast makes him whine as he wraps his limbs around Makoto’s shoulders and waist; Makoto’s hands move from his hips then to cradle and squeeze his ass as he takes his mouth again, fingers teasing at his crack as he pulls Haruka up and makes his dick rub along Makoto’s abdomen. The touch is nowhere near his hole, but the thought of it, of being even closer, being joined _,_ pushes Haruka to the edge and his head drops back away from the kiss with another needy whine. “ _Makoto!”_

“It’s okay, Haru-chan. Let go. I’ve got you,” Makoto breathes against his ear as he flexes his abdomen and hitches Haruka up again, and Haruka’s orgasm hits him hard; he cries out brokenly, body jerking in Makoto’s embrace, as he comes.

When he comes out of his haze, Makoto’s looking at him tenderly; he dips his head forward to brush a kiss over Haruka’s lips then nuzzles a cheek with his nose. Haruka feels a dampness there and his face heats when he realizes it’s from his own eyes. Turning his head away, he frees his grip on Makoto’s shoulder and brings a hand up to wipe the rest away, but as soon as he drops his hand, Makoto forces his gaze back and kisses him gently. “I love you,” he murmurs, “More than anything in this world. You won’t lose me, Haruka. Not for your dream, not because your coach says. Not over anything. You _can_ have both. I promise.”

Haruka feels the sting in his eyes now, closes his eyes against it, wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck, lets the shower wash his release and a fresh set of tears away. “Ah,” he says shakily after a moment as he finally, _finally,_ lets the horrific thought go. He doesn’t know how Makoto had seen the hold it still had on his heart when he himself hadn’t even felt it ‘til now, but he’s grateful, _so_ grateful for him. And he’s never been one to really wish away time but, in this moment, Haruka cannot _wait_ for school to be done so that he can chase his dream with Makoto at his side versus yet another man who doesn’t seem to understand him.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka talks, Azuma listens, and the last day of the tournament begins.

It’s early when Haruka’s alarm goes off, far earlier than he’s used to on a Sunday. Haruka hurries to silence it, but he’s hampered a bit between coming right out of sleep and the heavy weight of Makoto’s arm around him.

“Mm, Haru?”

Haruka stops the alarm and then gives Makoto a gentle nudge. “Move your arm, Makoto. I have to get up.” Makoto gives a soft whine and then does as he’s bidden; Haruka sits, and then turns his head when Makoto starts to, too. “Lay back down. I have to go meet Azuma at the venue before the teams start coming in. You’ve got a couple hours yet.”

“Mmkay.” Makoto drops back down and Haruka shifts to get out of bed, but then he stops when he feels Makoto’s hand on his own.

“Makoto?”

“Just swim for us, Haru-chan. They won’t be able to catch you then,” he says before bringing Haruka’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to its back. “Love you.”

As quickly as the cognizance had come, it vanishes; Makoto’s lips softly smack once and his breathing evens out, and Haruka is glad for it as he can’t control the tenderness that he feels between the ages-old tell of Makoto drifting off and the sweetness of his gesture and words. “I love Makoto, too,” he whispers, though he doesn’t chance anymore; he just slides his hand free and then gets up and heads into the bathroom.

As Haruka gets ready, he thinks about yesterday; how it had started and how it had ended. His cheeks warm as he recalls his tears, but for the most part, he isn’t really bothered. He trusts Makoto with every bit of himself, including his vulnerabilities, and that’s such a precious thing to be able to rest in. _Makoto_ is precious, and he’s so glad that he’s gotten to fall in love with his best friend, with the boy that’s _always_ taken care of him, even as Haruka’s done what he could to take care of Makoto in turn.

He’s so glad to have fallen in love with this boy who _gets him._

Last night had been just one moment of countless that Haruka could recall. Makoto had held him until he’d come down and then had eased him to his feet, had just continued on with their shower, giving Haruka space while Haruka had soaped and rinsed, but also allowing Haruka to wash Makoto’s hair in turn when he’d asked to. He’d teased, playfully whining about getting soap in his eyes for how he’d had to duck his head so that Haruka could reach him, smiling like Haruka had handed him the world when Haruka had laughed and had called him an idiot.

Not a word had been said about what had happened. Haruka doesn’t even know if Makoto had orgasmed, and while that _does_ bother him some, he knows that, bigger picture, it doesn’t matter. It’s everything else that does, from the normalcy of those moments, to how Makoto had ordered the perfect meal for him, to how he’d taken care of him after, pulling one of Haruka’s very favorite ocean documentaries up on the computer after taking care of their wet laundry and just holding him while they’d watched it ‘til they’d fallen asleep.

Makoto had known that he was still hurting, still scared, because Makoto has _always_ seen the deeper places within Haruka that Haruka can’t, or sometimes refuses to. Makoto loves him _for_ those broken bits of him because Makoto loves him as a whole, inside and out, simply because he _is._ _That’s_ what matters. And, Haruka realizes as he quietly leaves his apartment, for as asinine as Azuma’s timing was yesterday, and for as angry as he _still_ gets about how it had cost him his race, he also pities the man a bit. Like Makoto had said, the loss of his friend is horrific, but the lack of having known a bond like theirs is truly sad.

The bus and trains are nearly empty this early, and the trip to the venue is a quiet one. Haruka sits, eyes closed, through most of it, shifting his mental focus to what he has to accomplish today. He thinks about those he’ll be up against; the unknowns and the few that he does, Rin, Ikuya, Kaede, and a flicker of excitement makes itself felt. Out of them all, he’s the only one that he knows for certain has beaten Wahlander’s speed—and not just in practice anymore, he reminds himself, thinking of Azuma’s words from the night before. Which means that he has just as good of a shot as anyone at making Team Japan today and, probably, better than most—provided he doesn’t end up with anymore _‘helpful advice’_ from his personal coach.

Haruka’s lips press softly as irritation briefly replaces the anticipation he’d been feeling. This, _this_ is the part _he_ has to take ownership of, and while he can’t change how he’d reacted yesterday any more than he can the abysmal things Asuma had said, he _can_ control how he responds today, both to the memory and to dealing with the man himself. Haruka nods to himself and then quietly sighs after a second or two. He feels a bit like it’s taking a step backward, trying to isolate himself from those feelings when he’s just started getting a _little_ more comfortable with acknowledging and sharing how he feels.

Emotions are hard.

There are only a handful of others at the venue once Haruka arrives. Azuma’s the only one he knows so he heads directly to him; the man greets him with a nod then tips his head toward the conference room they’re using as a private dining area for the participants. Breakfast is nothing that Haruka is particularly hungry for but everything he knows that he’ll need and, once he’s filled his tray, he follows Azuma to a table off in the corner. His stomach flips slightly as he sits, and he tells himself he’s being foolish. Just because Azuma had passed by a bunch of empty ones doesn’t mean that he’s in for another lecture or bit of unsolicited advice, he tells himself wryly as he opens one of his bottles of water to take a drink.

But, apparently, he is.

“We need to talk about yesterday,” Azuma says bluntly about five minutes into the meal. Haruka tenses to the point where his spoon falters slightly and then, jaw tight, he gives a single nod as he continues with his okayu. “I owe you an apology.”

That brings Haruka’s gaze up with a start, lips parted slightly in his shock. Azuma snorts in amusement, but then sobers just as quickly.

“I had my reasons but, in retrospect, it was shitty timing on my part, Nanase, and I am sorry for that. However—” Haruka feels himself tense again, “—It still needed to be said and I make no apology for that.”

Haruka gives another nod, makes himself take another bite of the okayu, then licks his lower lip. “Thank you. For the apology.” His brow furrows slightly as he considers Azuma’s words. “You didn’t think it was a bad time when you said it, though.”

“No,” Azuma says simply, and then his brow arches when Haruka just continues to look at him. “You really want to get into this now? You’re competing again in a few hours.”

Haruka truly thinks about that for a moment and then he nods. “I want to know.”

Azuma studies him for a second or two and then nods, folds his arms on the table, leans forward a bit. “I was watching you yesterday. With the Matsuoka kid. With Shiina. Your friends are important to you. I get that. But, as I said, you have to be willing to make the sacrifices you need if you want to succeed. Which means you have some decisions to make, and not just about your friends who compete.”

Haruka continues to eat as Azuma talks, not really surprised by the response. Even though Azuma hadn’t been this specific the day before, his words had been pointed enough that Haruka had realized he’d been speaking of his bonds—though at least the timing makes a little more sense, he supposes, crappy as it was. The last bit causes him to stop mid-bite, though, and he lowers his spoon back to his bowl. “You’re talking about Makoto,” he says slowly as he studies Azuma’s eyes, and Azuma nods.

“He’s the bigger problem, yeah.”

“Why?” But Haruka’s gut tightens even as he asks because he just _knows_ what’s coming next.

Azuma rolls his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Nanase. You know why. It’s written all over his face whenever he’s around you. And yours too, by the way.” He quickly holds up a hand. “And before you go there, I don’t give a damn that he’s a guy. I’m saying that you can’t be splitting your focus,” he continues as he drops his hand to his coffee mug. “If you’re going to follow the path to global competition, he’s distraction that you can’t afford.”

“You’re wrong,” Haruka says tightly as he puts his spoon down and pushes his tray to the side. “I—” 

“I’m not.” Haruka blinks for the vehemence behind Azuma’s words, watches as Azuma takes a breath before continuing. “I’ve been there, Nanase, I know. And I don’t want to watch you go down the same path I did.”

Haruka blinks again then casts his gaze downward, draws his lips in to moisten them. Azuma’s implication is obvious, and while he doesn’t know for certain if the friend that he lost is the same person he’s referring to, he can’t help but feel that it is. Why else would he feel so strongly? Rin had said the loss had cost him his professional career, after all. But, Azuma doesn’t know that he knows that bit of information.

Azuma doesn’t know him and Makoto, either; the depth of their bond and their commitment to each other. What they’ve come through already. What _he’s_ been through.

He lifts his head.

“I’m sorry. For whatever it was that happened. But you’re wrong about me. I swim free, for myself,” he pushes on, ignoring the way Azuma arches his brows at him, the spark of impatience through Azuma’s eyes. “But I’m swimming competitively because of Makoto. He’s been at my side since my very first meet and he’s studying to be a trainer. He understands the sacrifices. As for my other friends,” Haruka continues, “I’ve lost people through swimming already. And if it wasn’t for Makoto, for my friends, I would have given it up, a long time ago.” A slight smile forms despite himself. “I actually did once. And it was those bonds that brought me back to it.” He sobers. “I appreciate your perspective. But I’m not giving up on my bonds _or_ my dream. I’ll find a way to manage both.”

Haruka has one more thing to say and, while he doesn’t want to get cut off, he does take a few seconds to find the words.” Makoto and I; that’s my business,” he finally decides upon, wishing like anything that he wasn’t having this conversation, but he’s not going to deny Makoto like he’s ashamed of him. “But you need to know that the only time our relationship has _ever_ negatively impacted my performance was yesterday, after you told me I should give him up. And that’s on you. Not him.” He stands, grabs his tray, tips his head to Azuma. “I’ll see you at the warmup pool,” he says, and he turns to leave, though he pauses and does look back when Azuma calls his name.

“I think you’re an idiot,” he says candidly, but then he gives the slightest smile. “Prove me wrong.”

Haruka tips his head again, then lifts it to meet his gaze. “Yes, sir.” He gives a hint of a smile in return then steps away, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. In the end, it had been a good conversation, but he’s still glad it’s over with. He did well, he thinks, both in expressing himself and in not letting the exchange rattle him. He feels good. A slight smile curves his lips again. And Azuma’s latest challenge is one that he looks forward to.

By the time Haruka finishes his warmup, it’s time to meet up with the team. He manages a quick shower, then tosses his uniform on over his jammers, slips in with the group just as the coach calls them to order. He runs over the list of events, shorter than yesterday’s, but with still a fair number of Hidaka participants swimming. Asahi’s 200-meter butterfly is today, Mikoshiba’s 800 meter free. Kiryuu, who missed the 200-meter free like Haruka had yesterday, has his 200-meter breast today.

And then there’s the 100-meter free. Haruka is in the last heat, the coach announces and Haruka nods to acknowledge, fingers curling slightly as excitement ripples through him. He’s on block four and he wonders who took five and six; Kaede has one if he had to wager, but the other is completely up for grabs. It could be Rin, Ikuya, anyone, really, but it also really doesn’t matter. This is _his_ chance and he’ll make the most of it regardless as to who he swims with. He has nothing to lose, Makoto’s assured him of that, and he’ll put his trust in him, swim for _them,_ just as Makoto’s asked him to.

When the coach dismisses them to the locker room, Haruka goes with his team. He’s already changed, but he wants his phone. Makoto will be getting here shortly, and he wants to know where he and Kisumi will be. He doesn’t hear Asahi, which is unusual enough that, after grabbing his cell, he goes and looks for him, and his brow arches slightly when he sees him just kind of standing in front of his locker. “Asahi?” he calls as he stops beside him, and Asahi actually starts, then throws on a far-too-bright smile.

“Haru! Hey! What?” he asks when Haruka arches a brow at him, though the color’s already heightening in his cheeks.

Haruka just pushes the brow higher.

Asahi blinks, then looks away, quietly sighs—and then he laughs, which Haruka _wasn’t_ expecting. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know I’m bugged. I mean, we _have_ spent a lot of time together, huh,” he says with a light smile as he looks up again, and Haruka almost laughs himself. _Almost._ Because Asahi is like Makoto in that it’s like a day with no sun when he’s down. But he doesn’t, because Asahi is important to him, and though there wouldn’t have been any maliciousness to it at all, Asahi’s already feeling bad.

“Ah,” he says simply in turn and with a warm smile, which makes Asahi’s broaden to one closer to his usual happy grin. For a moment, anyway. And then he sighs again.

“It’s just… this is it, you know? I mean, since I blew the 50 and all.”

“You didn’t,” Haruka says firmly, which makes Asahi look back up at him in surprise. “You swam well, Asahi. You were third in a difficult heat, and free’s your second. It’s okay to be disappointed,” he continues, gentling his voice, “But don’t say you blew it. You didn’t.”

“Thanks, Haru.” Asahi gives him a grateful smile, and then his jaw ticks slightly and he looks away, busies himself with undressing. “I just really want to be there with you guys, you know? I mean, I’ve been chasing the global dream since we were kids, but to be there with you and Ikuya?”

“I’m not there yet, myself,” Haruka reminds quietly, and Asahi’s gaze flies back up to his as he steps into his jammers.

“You will be,” he says, almost before Haruka’s finished speaking.

Haruka smiles a bit. “And you will, too. You’ll see. I believe in you, Asahi.” Makoto’s text tone sounds then, Asahi’s phone making a different noise at about the same time, and the two of them blink; Asahi snickers and Haruka huffs a laugh. “Guess they’re here.” He pulls out his phone while Asahi finishes up. “Same section but in the middle tier, right at the balustrade,” he shares, brows arching again.

“That’s close! Pro’lly ‘cause there aren’t as many of us swimming today,” Asahi hypothesizes as he shuts his locker, and then they head out, join the rest of the team. As they meet up with the others at the entrance hall, Haruka sees Azuma talking with Mikhail; he briefly wonders where Rin is, if they’ll sit close again. He hopes so. And, if not, he hopes that Rin will be sitting near the guys from Samezuka. Team has always been even more important to Rin than to Haruka, and while they’re swimming individually, it doesn’t seem right that Rin, of all people, should be there with no moral support beyond his coach.

Just as the opening announcements are starting, Haruka sees Rin come up to Mikhail. He also sees Sousuke strolling past to the visitor’s entrance, hands in his pockets, and he smirks a bit to himself, files it away to pick at Rin later about. The Hidaka team moves forward as the one in front of them does, but just as they step out into the natatorium to take their section of seats, he about runs into Kiryuu, who’s suddenly frozen to the spot. “Oi,” he grouses, and then his brow arches slightly when it’s as if Kiryuu hasn’t heard him. His eyes follow Kiryuu’s stare as their teammates filter around them and, after a brief curve of lips when he easily spies Makoto and the others, he does a sweep back over the people in that section. His eyes briefly go wide when he spies a guy in glasses with brown hair a few shades lighter than Makoto, and then his lips curve up again. “Kiryuu, is that—”

“Sota,” Kiryuu breathes, reaching out and lightly grabbing Haruka’s forearm closest to him, and Haruka can’t even mind it for the sheer happiness radiating from his friend. “Nanase, it’s Sota!”

“Kiryuu! Nanase!”

They both start at Coach’s sharp call, turn and give shallow bows of apology; Kiryuu slips into the seat closest to where they are and Haruka joins Azuma in the row behind the team. Azuma arches a brow at him, but then Rin and Mikhail join them, Rin greeting him in a whisper beneath the announcement of the first heat.

“Where’re you at?” Rin asks, and he beams when Haruka tells him. “I got six! You ready to lose?” he asks flippantly, and Haruka snorts as the flicker of excitement that’s been teasing at his core off and on all morning flares to life, fed off of Rin’s.

“That’s my line,” he replies, which makes Rin laugh, and Haruka can’t help but grin. Only one of them can, and he’s almost positive that Kaede will be between them. It promises to be a challenge unlike any he’s had to date. But he feels good about it. He glances at Asahi, who’s back to looking unnaturally serious, and then to Kiryuu, who is _still_ staring across the pool as if stunned. He hopes it will be for all of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I’ve toyed with doing for a while—long enough that I figured I should stop thinking and start doing lol. The struggle with fic like this is always to find the balance between relaying enough of the canon story so that new fans aren’t at a loss without overdoing it. But there are enough points in S3 that I feel warrant fleshing out, so here we go. Please note, this is based on the episodes only ~~as I’ve not been privileged enough yet to see Road to the World- Yume,~~ and I’ve done my best to construct the timeline based on what I could glean from them. I’m also writing this as I post, which isn’t something I usually do, but the world could use a bit more love and light right now, and MakoHaru is an ideal delivery system. ♥ That said, tags and characters will be added to as the story develops.
> 
>  **12 August, 2020 ETA** I have now seen Road to the World, and I loved it! That said, since I started this and have gotten this far on the series, I'm going to continue working off of the episodes and the timeline I created from them.


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